


A Soul's Worth (And Then Some)

by theshizniiit



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon Character of Color, Dark, Deaf Character, Depression, Disability, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Gang Rape, Guilt, I really am, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Molestation, Original Character(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robot Feels, Robot Rights, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sexual Assault, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Therapy, This shit is dark guys, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Trauma, Victim Blaming, hurt dorian, i'm sorry in advance, protective!John, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 55
Words: 130,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2615072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshizniiit/pseuds/theshizniiit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has always been able to avoid thinking about the complexity of the hierarchy of society and where androids stood, but when Dorian is attacked on a case, the terrifying and humiliating assault is given worldwide coverage and the world's eyes are on Dorian.</p><p>John is forced to consider the fact that maybe his silence on the matter is part of the problem.</p><p>Too bad it takes him watching his partner slowly self destruct before his eyes for him to even notice.</p><p>
  <strong>[[COMPLETED]]</strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"The car smells like olive oil." Dorian says evenly as he gets into the passengers seat of John's car early on a chilly and crisp Monday morning. "Again." he adds, looking over at the tired detective slumped in the driver's seat next to him.

John grumbles and shivers in his seat, irritated by the cold and the fact that his eyes feel like sandpaper.

"I had a salad." he grumbles as he pulls off from the curb in front of Rudy's lab. He even less in the mood to deal with Dorian's snark today than usual. He'd woken up feeling more hopeless than is normal for him, tearing off his bed sheets and staring at the gaping space where his leg was supposed to be. He'd forgotten his coffee and considered not coming in to work at all, responsibilities be damned.

Maybe John is getting better after all, and this is shown by the mere fact that he dragged his sorry ass to work today anyway.

"We're not having this argument again." Dorian smirks, staring out the passenger window, "And again I say, you're welcome for the tip."

John huffs and stops at a light, taking his hand off the wheel to rub at his eyes. He glances at his partner and feels a pang of jealousy in his gut. Dorian looks like he doesn't even feel the cold. He probably doesn't. John knows the DRN is probably aware of the temperature, probably scanning the air pressure and density of the humidity and all that crap that reminds John just how _not human_ Dorian is. It crosses John's mind that he could just suck it up and _ask_ , like a damn adult. But that would start a longer conversation he's not sure he's ready for right now. It would also bring up subjects the detective _certainly_ isn't ready for. Subjects he narrowly avoided when the issue of Dorian hating his living quarters came up. He doesn't want to know how Dorian works. He doesn't even truly care, aside from the flashes of curiosity that crawl up his throat every now and again. He doesn't need to know how the DRN thinks. He's a machine. An overly complex machine, but just a machine. He can't put that much energy into it.

Hell, John can't even be arsed but put that much thought into _himself_. His own emotions are a mystery to him. He's not even _touching_ Dorian's.

So he inhales the brisk, cold air deep enough to make his nose hurt, and he makes a right turn into the precinct parking lot.

Dorian stares out of the window and draws little pictures in the fog on the glass.

John tries not to think about how utterly _human_ that action is.

~

The precinct is warmer--the air tinged with the faint smell of coffee and gunpowder--, and the detective is more grateful for that than he has been for anything in a while. John's too cold, tired and irritated to notice that the bullpen is strangely scarce, only a few officers milling about, and nearly all of them looking worried. He makes a beeline for the coffee machine, Dorian following him closely in a way that causes mild annoyance to sliver up his spine. He ignores the bot when he makes a disapproving sound as the detective pours more sugar in his coffee than is necessary.

He looks up as Dorian taps him on the shoulder, and John turns groggily, clutching his coffee. The DRN's face is blank, the blue lights racing up and down his temples before he looks at John with concerned blue eyes.

"Maldonado wants to see us." he says evenly.

"Where is she?"

"Her office, I imagine." Dorian replies.

"Why didn't she just call us up then? Why all the secrecy?" John grumbles, pushing past Dorian and heading to the office on the second tier of the precinct.

"I'm not quite sure. I only act like I know everything, man. Doesn't mean I actually do." Dorian says, eyes bright, falling into step next to the detective.

John wonders what subroutine makes Dorian _do_ that. Smirk like that or get that eager, mischievous and hopeful gleam that he gets in his eye. Did all DRNs do that? Were they all different or unique in personality? What _exactly_ makes Dorian act like he does? Was he programmed to be a snarky pain in the ass or were all DRNs blank slates until they decided who they wanted to be and who they wanted to be like? Were they-

"Kennex." Maldonado's voice snaps him out of his thoughts and he finds himself in her office with Dorian looking at him, a question in his stare. Maldonado stands across from them, behind her desk, her face grave in contrast to her brightly colored nails. Red, he notices.

He'd completely zoned out on the way here. He's fucking _losing_ it.

"Sit down, you two." She says, smoothing her jacket before she tints the glass walls of the office, blocking everyone from viewing inside. The office darkens considerably now that it's cut off from the light of the rest of the building. The office lights flick on and John has the vague realization that this might be serious, Maldonado never shields the view to her office unless something rather dire has happened, and Dorian's head tilts in an unasked question. He must be as confused as John is.

He gulps a mouthful of too-hot coffee and tries to pay attention.

Maldonado moves behind her desk and takes out a shiny, rectangular, black box, throwing it on her desk in front of them, grimacing.

"We found this on the steps of the station this morning."

John blinks owlishly, his mind moving through molasses because _what the hell even is that-_

Dorian sits up straighter (which John didn't even know was possible) before he looks at the captain and asks, "Do you know who left it?" He sounds alarmed. John yawns.

She shakes her head, the loose brown locks not trapped in her bun bouncing lightly on her head, "No idea."

"Have the MX's reviewed the security cameras?" Dorian asks tightly.

"They're going through all the footage from last night and this morning." She replies, "Nothing has been found yet. We had it deactivated, and it doesn't seem like it was meant to go off, but to be a message. For someone in particular." She says, looking at John expectantly.

John takes another gulp of his coffee, his throat burning as he swallows it. He realizes he has no idea what they're talking about. He sits up straighter in his chair and ignores the fact that he _just wants to fucking go to sleep_ \--before he asks, "Wait-what's going on?"

"It's a bomb, John." Dorian answers, his voice unreadable.

"What?"

"A bomb." Sandra says, "Left on the steps of this very building."

" _What the hell_." John moans, rubbing a hand down his face. Well, he's awake now.

"It's been defused." Sandra says, pushing it further towards the detective, "But--look at it, John."

He leans over and investigates the package and he doesn't _get it_. It looks like a regular pipe bomb.

"Look along the side, John."

And then he sees it. 

It's a pin, no bigger than his palm but it makes his heart hammer in his chest. His breath quickens and he can feel his leg throb painfully, where the synthetic limb attaches to his organic flesh.

It's the pin to the bomb that Anna threw. The bomb that took his leg and killed what little hope there was to save Pelham. The bomb that ruined his life. Shook it from its very foundation and made everything crumble to dust.

"InSyndicate." He whispers, his hand shaking. He can feel his hand closing around the cold metal. The coldness of it bites at his flesh. He holds it tighter.

"Yes, we think so." Maldonado says, ignoring John's slight breakdown. He's grateful, he doesn't need to be met with concern right now. He feels Dorian bristle next to him, the restless energy coming off the android in waves. Do androids even give off vibes? Is that even normal?

John swallows thickly, the saliva tasting faintly like bile and anxiety.

"We have officers posted at every known InSyndicate hideout in the city." she continues, "That's why we're a little low on officers today, if you haven't noticed when you walked in. We think they're after you, we don't know why, but it's pretty clear this was a message, John. And not a good one. If they are back, we need to keep an eye out for them--and on you."

The detective hears what is being said, but all he can think is _'Dorian hasn't said squat for about 5 entire minutes. Guess it takes grave danger to shut him up.'_ as he turns to look at his partner. Dorian is rigid in his chair, his neural net running faster than John has ever seen it, his temple lit up in blue.

"So what-" John starts, turning to Maldonado before three deafening bangs go off in the building.

And suddenly the roof is caving in.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's fair to say that this may take place between episode one an two what with how John is regarding Dorian. Speaking of, things get pretty bad for our dear DRN next chapter.
> 
> So sorry about that, in advance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I feel the need to explain myself. The reason I chose this particular thing for Dorian to suffer through is  
> a) I asked myself what the ultimate WORST things to happen to a person and this was it  
> and  
> b) to open the discussion on robots rights for the fic and hopefully in the comments section. Like, is it even required to ask consent from robots, even if they have emotions and such? Is it an issue at all? Is rape just as bad when it's a bot instead of a human, no matter how human that bot may be? etc  
> (Tell me your stance on robots rights, I'd love to hear them!)  
> So yea.  
> Explicit Non-Con in this chapter. I skeeved myself out, I won't lie to you. This was disturbing to write.  
> So yeah, apologies.

John can't see _anything_.

But he hears Dorian's yell and Sandra's pained gasps in front of him. Thick white smoke blinds him and fills the precinct quickly, and he chokes and gasps trying to catch his breath. It's all happening too fast and John think's he smells fire before he notices that he's been knocked from his chair, and that his synthetic leg has disconnected from his thigh. He hauls himself into sitting position, rubbing at his eyes, and every nerve is screaming at him to get up and do _something._

So he does.

He coughs,a dry, labored sound before he reaches down and feels his synthetic limb, beeping and still in the leg portion of his cargo pants, just disconnected from his organic muscle. He gasps in relief before he coughs again and connects the limb. 

"John!"

Dorian.

"Over here." He croaks, dust clogging his throat as he staggers to his feet. He looks around and squints through the haze of white, swirling dust and searches for the sight of anyone. Dorian was sitting right next to him, how can he not see him now?

He hears a stuttered gasp and a cough to his right.

Sandra. He stumbles over and feels his way along the desk, before hearing another painful sounding cough from below, he slowly drops to his knees and feels in front of him.

"Kennex."

He moves slightly to the left and squints, his eyes burning and he spots a lock of brown hair. He shuffles closer and bumps something with his leg. A hand. Sandra cough again and John grabs her. He can see in between puffs of smoke, there is a wall pinning the captain to the floor. 

"Sandra." He croaks, "You okay?" he knows it's a stupid question, none of them are okay right now, and if they don't burn to death then the smoke will kill them first. He asks anyway.

"Yeah," She coughs, "Stuck." 

He sees Dorian move into his view, and watches as the DRN lifts the bit of wall pinning Maldonado with minimal strain. He lifts the captain easily and looks at John, his face blank and lighting up in blue.

"I've devised a safe route out of the building." he says, voice even, "Grab my coat, John. Stay close."

In normal circumstances he would argue and snipe and snark, but instead he coughs harshly and grabs hold of Dorian's navy blue windbreaker and tries not to trip on fallen pieces of debris.

He stumbles on stairs and and pieces of the building fallen to ground until he feel the first cold breaths of fresh air hit him. He lets go, his eyes watering and stinging but he can _see_ , and that is a damn gift in and of itself at the moment. 

He sees Dorian holding Captain Maldonado, who must have passed out during the journey outside, her side bloody and her face streaked with dirt.

"Her injuries are not severe." Dorian says, voice unreadable. John looks up and takes in the DRN, who is covered in white dust and dirt, a few purple scratches marring his face. He looks put out, and slightly concerned, but not hurt. John could laugh.

' _Bastard probably doesn't even feel any pain._ ' John thinks as he doubles over while another coughing fit takes him by surprise.

"John."

He raises one finger, a signal for _give me a second you unfazed bastard-_

_"John!"_

He looks up in annoyance and slight anger until he sees Dorian looking at a figure across the street. The outside of the precinct is a mess, smoke billowing into the sky and half of the structure collapsed in on itself. John hears screaming and sees people frantically running in all directions, except one. A man dressed in black, his head shaved and his towering stature sticking out of the crowd. 

Then he sees it. The InSyndicate tattoo emblazoned on the man's neck.

"John. I need your permission to pursue him." He hears Dorian say beside him.

"What?" he doesn't make his eyes off the man, not for a second.

"In the event of a catastrophe such as this, I need a human officer's permission to pursue that man as a suspect. Now," Dorian smirks, raising an eyebrow and nudging John, handing Sandra over to him. He takes out his gun, before he looks at John, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, "Can I pursue him?"

John doesn't hesitate before he growls, "Get the bastard."

The man across the street grins and bolts.

And Dorian flashes John a cocky half-smile and takes off after him.

John is left standing there, holding his injured captain until the ambulances arrive and take her away. He rides in the ambulance too, holding her hand tightly and looks back on the precinct building as the last standing parts of the structure crumble.

~

Dorian knows the statistics.

The likelihood that his little pursuit of his ends in a trap is more than 97%. That doesn't mean he won't try though. He dashes after the man and finds himself at the docks, running past the abandoned warehouses by the time he calculates he can get a clean shot. He aims and takes a single shot--quick and clean--the man crumbling and screaming in pain. He stops running when he gets to the body writhing on the ground, gasping and holding his leg as the DRN cuffs him and hauls him to his feet. He scans the man's face quickly, diagnostics running on his injury and the man's criminal history flicking before Dorian's eyes. It's extensive, of course. He wonders why humans even bother with crime. It never seems to get them anywhere good, in his opinion. He makes a note to ask John when he sees him again. He doesn't think John will give him an actual answer _(the detective probably doesn't even know the answer himself)_ but it'll be an interesting conversation, at least. He likes talking to John.

"Klaus Malut, you are under arrest on the suspicion of the bombing of the 103rd Precinct." He says. The man grits his teeth in pain and then looks Dorian straight in the eye. Then he smiles, his teeth bloodied from falling face first on the pavement, and Dorian feels a knot of dread when he scans and senses 7 other hostile forces in the vicinity. He can't even call for backup. That bomb blast fried his signal receptor. He can't call John.

He can't call anyone.

He's on his own.

The first shot rings out and hits him in the arm, the second hits him right in the forehead. He stumbles, losing control of his legs for a split second and he knows that he's in a bad situation. 

John thinks he has no concept of fear. But he's wrong, because right now Dorian's energy levels are spiking and he's _scared_. His processors kick into overdrive and he tries to calculate a way out. _Any_ way out.

Another shot is fired and Dorian's vision blacks out.

~

John paces the waiting room of the hospital, and wonders why the terrible feeling in his gut won't go away.

~

The DRN comes to and the first thing he feels is a shock to the neck. His vision flickers and then comes back online--his vision static-y and flickering slightly--and he looks into the gruff face one of one of the men gathered around him. He's on the floor, he can tell, but the functions for his arms and legs have been blocked, he discovers with a pang of anxiety. No matter how many subroutines he runs to override the block, he can't get past it. He feels panic rising in his chest and realizes he can't speak either. Every vocal command he sends comes bouncing back to him, rejected.

He can't even _speak_.

The man above him has steely gray, beady, shiny eyes and a lewd smile. 

"Wow, look at this one." He drawls. His voice is rough and his face is hard, "This one is kinda...pretty." He smirks, and Dorian doesn't quite understand what that's supposed to _mean_. Pretty is used to describe flowers and jewels and the sky. That's a strange thing to call him. His processors are slower than they've ever been and he's completely out of control of his body and _this is really not good--_

"Look at those eyes." another says budging into his view, he doesn't look any nicer than the first man, Dorian thinks dully.

He tries to send a vocal command one more time.

Failed.

Damn.

"Those lips aren't bad either." one laughs, nudging another.

He still doesn't quite understand. His face is meant to be pleasing and inspire trust and respect from the general public. But what does it matter? Why are these men commenting on it? What does it matter to _them_? His gaze flicks around the room and he gathers that they've taken him inside one of the abandoned warehouses--one closest to the sea--as he can faintly hear the waves crashing against the dock nearby. His scanners are fizzling out, just a blackened spot in his vision. He has to rely on what he sees and hears. He feels oddly vulnerable. Is this what humans feel like? Dorian always knows who's around and exactly how many people surround him because their heat signatures are always laid out before his eyes. But right now...he has no idea. He knows what he sees, but that's all.

It's awful.

"Yeah, he's a looker actually." another says, "You sure he's a police bot, and not a bang bot?"

"Nah. He's a police bot." the first one says, "One of them DRNs. Got cancelled and scrapped, I think. They're built to be human. Or as close as they come." 

"And he's not being traced?"

"Nope. Fucked with the signal, this guy won't be alerting anyone to anything. Can't even move."

"Good. Because he's pretty and I call first."

Dorian has been zoning in and out of the conversation, his mechanics buggy and disoriented but he shocked back into the present when he feels a presence kneeling over him before a face fills his vision. The man is muscular, the dark tattoos a stark contrast on his pale skin and Dorian notices his eyes are the same slate grey as the first man's. He smiles wolfishly and Dorian's constant stream of information screeches to a halt when he feels the first tug of his pants being yanked down.

Then he knows.

He knows what they're going to do to him.

And he panics. He can't move and he sends commands frantically to every part of his body, trying to get a reaction, _any_ reaction from his deadened limbs. He can't scream or get away and he can smell the man leaning close--too close over him--and he sends every distress signal he can. 

But no one is listening. 

The man grins like a predator and throws Dorian's pants to the side before unzipping his own and pulling out his length, large and dripping and Dorian runs the distress signals again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Failed.

Failed.

Failed.

Dorian has experienced fear, it's a natural repsonse to danger and seeing as he's a cop, he's basically always in danger. But this is something else entirely. It's horror, terror and the icy hands of revulsion closing around his throat.

The man positions himself between Dorian's legs as the others watch and catcall and holler when he lines himself up and pushes into the DRNs body with one brutal thrust.

Dorian doesn't feel pain like humans do. Their pain explodes and fizzles out, with nerves and synapses firing off. He feels it differently. It's the bone deep _wrongness_ like when his systems get a virus or a file corrupts. The feeling of wanting to get that corruption _out_ of him and _off_ his systems as soon as possible. And usually he can. He can wipe it and start anew, restore what was lost and be comfortable inside his own head yet again.

But not this time. 

He doesn't feel pain like humans do but he feels _afraid_. He doesn't know what to _do_. And in its own way, the intense fear turns _into_ pain. He's more afraid than he's ever been, being forced to look at this man whose thrusting deep into him. He feels humiliated as the others jeer and look at him hungrily as his unresponsive body gets used in a way that it's not supposed to be used. He's a police bot, he's supposed to _prevent_ this from happening to other people. How can he help others if he cant even help himself?

The man is smiling and grunting above him, his putrid breath filling Dorian's senses and Dorian wants to scream and tear him apart, but his body is useless, just like him.

And old retired model. Not strong enough. Hacked, taken over and violated by humans. All because he couldn't act quick enough.

He feels the drag of the man's cock inside of him, the pull of the man's length against his inner walls, he can feel every bump and vein and ridge in the man's length, and he knows he'll never be able to forget the disgusting feeling. He's disgusted with himself. How could he let this happen? He might as well be a toaster, or a microwave. Just a thing to be used.

Everyone was right after all.

He'll be able to smell him on his skin _forever_.

The man on top of him is thrusting slightly faster now, clutching Dorian's hips and pushing deeper, his grunts echoing in the warehouse and Dorian is forced to look in the man's eyes as he comes inside of him, the warm liquid gushing and coating the DRN's insides.

And that's exactly when he feels like he'll start to rot from the inside out.

He feels the semen filling him and humiliation washes over him again as the man pulls out and another takes his place. The humming inside his head is getting louder and louder and he can barely hear the jeers, and for that he's marginally grateful. The feeling dissipates and is replaced with intense fear and and crushing humiliation when the next man strokes his face and thrusts into him.

The DRN stares past him at the ceiling. Counting the seconds. Counting the ceiling beams...

 ~

John paces the waiting room and feels his stomach tighten into a painful ball of despair.

Something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

And he doesn't know what.

So he sits on one of the hard plastic chairs and tries to breathe.

~

Dorian figured that was the worst of it.

It wasn't.

He didn't notice the camera at first (he's never been this out of it before, and he isn't sure whether it's a good thing or a sign of his end), or the fact that three more men had stood over him and were pumping their lengths, but he felt the come lace his face and his jacket, warm and sticky. He imagines it seeping into his skin. He heard the laughs and the clicking of the camera, he saw the cruel smiles and the vulgar signals they threw at him. He'd lost count of the men who had been between his legs and he tried to zone out and count the seconds or the boards on the ceiling of the warehouse, but he kept being pulled back into the present. Another man replaced the last one, and he felt the come drying on his face, on his lashes. He felt his opening tear at some point, but that hasn't stopped them.

He's never felt more disgusting. Or humiliated. Or scared. Will they kill him, after they're finished with him? He doesn't know whether he wants them to or not.

And he realizes that no one is coming to help him. 

No one cares about a missing DRN. He's just a hunk of metal. One that should have been disposed of years ago. He's on borrowed time anyway.

John was right. He's just a bullet catcher. What does anyone care that he's being used in the middle of a warehouse? 

His mind supplies the word.

_Rape._

But does that word even apply?

He's not human. He doesn't have the same status or needs or importance.

But at the same time, he's a being with wants and feelings and _he doesn't want this_. He'd rather be dead. He _is_ dying, he realizes. This is it. He'll be a walking corpse after this.

He would be crying, he thinks, if he could.

He thinks on this, and tries to ignore the fact that the men between his legs have switched, the fact the force of the man's thrusts are rubbing him against the floor harshly, the fact that he can feel every drag of the lengths inside him and and spurt of warm stickiness on his face and he's so disgusted.

With them.

But mostly with himself. He wants to peel his skin of bit by bit because he's contaminated and _dirtydirtydirty--_

And now there's evidence of his humiliation, his violation on the small camera in the bearded man's hand recording everything.

He'll never be able to escape this. It will always have happened and now there's proof.

The last man kisses him (and Dorian wants to bite his lips off, but he can't move and the man's lips burn against his, and he'll never forget it) and gasps, "Prettiest bang bot." as he comes. Dorian wants to bite his face off. 

They leave him there, laying on the floor of the warehouse. He hears the waves crashing against the docks.

He would walk to the ocean and drown himself in it if he could. But he still can't move.

Dorian stares at the ceiling, his mind emptying, then silently enters sleep mode.

~

John's stomachache only seems to be getting worse.

"Damn coffee." He moans,slumping further in the uncomfortable hospital chair. But deep down he knows, it's not the coffee. It's something else. Something worse. And where the hell is Dorian?

"John?" 

"Hm?" John looks up and sees Valerie Stahl standing in front of him, worry marring her pretty face, "Oh. Uh, Detective Stahl."

"Dorian isn't here with you, right?" She asks.

"No, he's out hunting down a suspect." 

"Oh well, his signal fazed out which was weird, but we got Rudy to pinpoint his location." She says, "He's not moving so he might be hurt. Rudy is downstairs with some MX's waiting for you, just in case he needs repairs or you need backup. I'll stay with the captain." She says.

John stands up shakily, his sythetic leg beeping. He doesn't even have the energy to be embarrassed. 

"Thanks." he smiles before he heads downstairs.

He doesn't know why his stomach is turning violently.

He's sure Dorian is fine.

Dorian is always fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was super tough to write. I think I need a cup of tea and a good cry. I'm so serious. I feel a little sick.  
> I love you Dorian bby I'm so sorry.
> 
> I'd like to hear your thoughts on robots + consent in the comments. Let's start a discussion!


	3. Chapter 3

John meets Rudy in the hospital lobby, the thin man nervously chatting with the smiling receptionist before he spots John walking toward him. The man grabs his bag, a large leather sling bag and walks up to the detective. Five MX stands to the left of him and stare into the distance.

John tries not to be creeped out.

"John, hi," He says, "So uh, found Dorian. And you're here-"

"Yeah, I heard." John sighs. Rudy is a good guy, he really is, but his awkward disposition, tendency to disclose way too much information compounded with the fact that he always seems to state the obvious make him very...interesting company, John would say. "Should we get a move on then?" he deadpans. He's still way too tired for this, and the fact that Dorian seems to be hurt means that he most likely lost the suspect. Their _only_ suspect. John feels annoyance flare up. How hard can it be for an android to take down one bomb-happy douchebag? John should have been the one to go after him. At least then he wouldn't be rushing to save his android partner who should be able to take care of himself. 

He has the vague nagging feeling that he's being unfair and his stomach tightens as he gets in the car, Rudy slipping into the passengers side. He ignores it. He also ignores the fact that it feels wrong to him, having someone else in Dorian's seat.

"This is kind of cool, isn't it?" Rudy smiles excitedly, before his face drops and becomes frantic, "N-not the fact that Dorian might be hurt, but-I mean. The rest of it. The whole, riding in the car thing. Speeding towards a crime scene and all that."

John sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. He needs more coffee. "Yeah, Rudy. Sure."

"Where are we headed?" He grumbles, starting the car. Rudy fumbles with a small device, looking at its screen, "The docks." 

John pulls off with a screech and breaks every rule of traffic. He tells himself it's so he can manage to keep himself awake. 

Because he's not worried about his partner. At all.

~

They get to the docks and get out the car, John looking at the row of warehouses lining the coast. It's even _colder_ here, by the water. John decides he's going to kill Dorian when he gets a hold of him, for making him come down here and freeze his ass off looking for him. He sees the MXs exit their car and line up next to him, their faces glowing red at the temples.

"My scans indicate that DRN-0167 is located in the fourth warehouse to the left." the MX closest to him says, voice flat.

John moves away slightly before muttering a wary, "Thanks." 

He trudges up to the warehouse door, shivering slightly as he draws his weapon and nudges the door open, a puff of smoke erupting from the movement of the entrance. He feels Rudy's presence behind him, nervous waves rolling off of the man and John rolls his eyes before he steps in. He walks a few steps, looking around for any sign of a hostile force.

Then he sees the figure on the floor. 

"C'mon Rudy." John says quietly, before jogging up to the body, Rudy on his heels. He gets halfway there before he stops.

Because Dorian is naked from the waist down and completely motionless. 

"What the hell." John breathes.

Rudy pushes past him and runs over to Dorian before stopping before him. The line of his shoulder tense before he drops his bag next to the lifeless body on the floor and he jogs over to a piece of fabric strewn a ways  from the android. A pile of black fabric, covered in dust and boot prints.

John realizes that those are his pants.

Dorian's pants.

What the hell is going on? He thinks, while Rudy struggles to clothe the DRN. When he finishes, the technician stops and looks down at the android before he mutters a soft, "John."

His voice sounds different. Less timid and more determined. And maybe a touch angry.

John inches closer and he can't process what he seeing because he's never seen anything like this before. His mind is slow to make the connection and he's frustrated because something has happened here and Rudy knows what it is but John can't seem to figure it out.

He walks up to the pair and kneels beside Dorian like Rudy is and he sees a liquid coating the DRN. Everywhere. His face, his jacket, his hair. Some white, some a bit transparent, some drying and flaking.

"What the hell is that?" John says, leaning closer for a better look.

Rudy is silent and solemn next to him.

He reaches out, intending to touch the substance before Rudy pushes his hand away briskly.

"Don't, John." He says, his voice tight but steady.

"What, why not?" John says, "If you know what's going on just tell me."

The technician turns a deep shade of scarlet and he doesn't answer for a few moments.

"You know what sexbots are used for, right John?" he says, his voice small,  nervously scratching at his eyebrow with a skinny index finger.

John rolls his eyes, "I don't need to hear about your experiences with sexb-"

"Someone used Dorian as a sexbot." He says quietly, deadly still beside him.

John freezes mid sentence, remembers Dorian's pants thrown in a heap on the floor and he looks down at the DRN and sees the liquid drying on his face.

 _'Semen.'_ , his mind supplies, _'That's semen.'_

He is quiet and still for about half a second. His mind completely blanking. Then his stomach lurches and he throws himself to his feet. 

"Oh my God." he chokes, walking a few steps away and doubling over, nausea hitting him like a train. "Jesus Fucking Christ, Rudy- _What the hell?_ "

Rudy's face is still stony as he reaches over and opens his bag, pulling out a long silver rod. His fingers are shaking, John can tell.

John's shaking too.

"Shit." John moans, doubling over, "Fuck. You can't be serious. Why would someone even-"

"I don't know, John." Rudy says, voice flat.

John gasps for air to settle his sick stomach, but gives up when it doesn't work. He catches sight of the slender metal in the tech's hand before he asks, "What are you doing?"

"Waking him up. He seems to be in sleep mode." Rudy says quietly. He touches the rod to Dorian's neck and-

nothing.

He tries again, and again and again but the DRN doesn't respond, his body remaining still and lifeless on the warehouse floor.

"What does that mean?" John asks frantically, mouth tasting faintly like bile, then he pauses and whispers, "Is he dead?"

"No. He doesn't want to wake up." Rudy says mournfully, "He's doing it on purpose."

"He can do that?"

"-probably doesn't want to face anyone right now."

John gasps for air and wipes at his mouth roughly, his mind reeling. Rudy stands and walks past John, his bag in hand and his posture stiff.

"We'll have to take him to the lab, as is." he says dully, walking up to an MX and saying something John can't hear. He feels sick and his head is buzzing as he tries to avoid looking at his partner on the floor. If he doesn't, he's going to puke. He knows he is. If he doesn't already. And MX walks past him, the movements stiff and calculated and John watches as the android picks up Dorian and heads for the exit. He follows behind on numb legs, Rudy--looking a bit pale around the edges, John notices--waiting for him by the car. 

MX's load the DRN into the car and John rips his eyes away and shudders.

The ride back to the lab is the longest of his life.


	4. Chapter 4

Rudy's workshop is a large, dimly lit, ominous looking space. Built inside of an abandoned church and still sporting its stained glass windows, John wouldn't hesitate to describe the place as creepy. Not to say that it _felt_ creepy per se, or gave off a creepy vibe, but the general dimness and the fact is was church made it seem so. John is waiting on an upper level while Rudy fixes Dorian and he feels every bit of nausea hit him in waves. 

Dorian has always made it clear that he disapproved of how humans used sexbots, and while John resolved never to touch that conversation with a 20 foot pole, his stomach clenched at the horrible irony of it all. The images of the day flashed behind his eyes as he paces the floor and he tries not to think about how, no more than 4 hours ago, Dorian has smiled that infuriatingly confident smile and took off after a dangerous suspect. Will he be the same, when he wakes up? How do these sort of things affect robots, especially ones with emotion? The tangle of thoughts make John dizzy and he inhales a shaky breath and looks around.

He's never been on the upper level of Rudy's workshop. He's only ever been by the repair table and the back room, where Rudy pulled Dorian off a rack and inadvertently complicated John's entire mess of a life. John could look down at the lower level and see how Rudy is getting on with fixing Dorian, but he won't. He can't. It brings up too many questions. He doesn't even know how he should categorize this.

Rape? Is that even the proper term for what went on here? 

Dorian is property of the police department. He isn't human ( _'only human-like',_ his mind whispers) and he has no rights or social security number or citizenship. He doesn't even get paid, for God's sake. He doesn't eat or sleep or go to the bathroom. He's just...not like them. He doesn't have authentic emotions, John concludes. Just subroutines and formulas and lines of computer code that tell him to act a certain way given any situation he may find himself in. Dorian's entire "personality" is a programmed interface that isn't any more authentic than a virtual pet or a video game character. Dorian's emotions might seem real to himself, but how would he even know what to compare it to? Humans are made for emotion and to connect and thrive off of those connections, and when there are the few that don't, society brands those particular humans as defective and unstable, dangerous even. Sociopaths, they call them.

John feels like he's missing something though.

He thinks back to Dorian drawing a picture on the fog of the passenger window that very morning. He'd drawn a spotted dog and a cat perched atop the dog's head. That had been such a stupidly human thing to do, but it was just so childish and carefree and so... _Dorian_ , and John doesn't fully know what that means--Dorian is still a mystery to him--but it fits, somehow, and John can't rationalize it. How could a walking computer do something like that, drawing on the window as Dorian had done? How could a machine smile as happily and softly as Dorian when he looked upon his artwork and how could a machine smile, frown and make disapproving noises like Dorian does?

What's the programming language for _that_?

How can something that's so human be so... _not-human_ , in the most basic of ways?

He feels like he's missing something. Something big. And he's giving himself a headache thinking about it.

His phone rings and jolts him out of his thoughts, the shrill piercing ringtone making his head throb. He makes an annoyed note to change the blasted sound, it kills him a little inside whenever he has to listen to it.

"Kennex."

"John-"

"Hey, Valerie." he sounds as tired as he feels.

"Did you get Dorian?" she asks, her tone hopeful. She's always been so considerate of the DRN, talking to him and laughing with him when John was busy pouting somewhere or trying not to strangle Richard. It hits John that Valerie has been one of the few people who have treated Dorian like everyone else. He wonders, dully, if she knows something he doesn't.

Probably.

Everyone seems to be smarter than John lately.

"Yeah, yeah we got him." he says, sighing and rubbing a hand down his face.

"Any idea what happened to him?" Valerie asks, her easy tone taking on a hint of concern.

"We have an idea. It wasn't good, Val." he chokes, "Rudy is fixing him now."

Valerie is silent on the other end for a few moments, "We've got an ultimatum from InSyndicate, while you were gone."

John's spine straightens and his sense snap into sharpness, "What?"

"A letter, delivered to the precinct." She says, "Or, what's left of the precinct."

John's mouth goes dry, they're dropping off mail now? Why? What could they possibly have to say after what they've done today?

"What did it say?"

"I don't really understand it, but they said that they want you. Alive."

John rolls his eyes, predictable bad guys remain predictable. "Or what?" he asks. 

"Or they'll tell everyone." Valerie says, "I don't know what they mean by that, but there was a picture of an empty warehouse attached." 

John's mind reels to a stop and his stomach lurches again.

 _'Dorian,'_ he thinks, _'They'll tell everyone what they did to Dorian.'_

His head is pounding and suddenly the dim lights of the warehouse seem too bright.

"John?"

"Val, can you meet me somewhere?" He says, squinting his eyes and raising a hand to block out the soft light of a nearby lamp.

"Of course. The Captain is awake and still in the hospital, if you need to talk to her too." she says.

Bless Valerie. She always knows what to do. John is really grateful for the woman right now. Of course he'd never tell her that. He'd never tell anyone _anything_ like that. He has a very surly reputation to protect, after all.

"Let's meet at Maldonado's hospital room. She needs to hear this too." John says voice tight.

"Meet you there." 

"Bye Val, and thanks."

"Sure, John."

The line goes dead and John sighs, clenching his eyes shut and trying to calm the inflamed nerves in his brain.

He tells Rudy he's headed out for a bit, and he'll be back to check on Dorian shortly.

He avoids looking at the DRN on the table and his stomach lurches painfully as he steps out into the cold afternoon.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, John. You conflicted soul.


	5. Chapter 5

John arrives at the hospital and flashes his badge at the receptionist, who balks and points him toward the elevators. He feels slightly more alert and focused, though the cruel blast of freezing cold air he'd been hit with as soon as he stepped out of the car could have helped with that, he thinks dully. The elevator dings and opens, and he sees a flash of brown hair and eyes to match on the far end of the hallway.

Valerie.

"John!" She calls, spotting him from the other end of the hallway.

He makes his way to her, squinting at the harsh lights and willing himself not to clench his eyes fully shut altogether. He can't wait for those 4 aspirin he shoved down his throat in the car to start working. He knows four is a bit much, and that Dorian would tut at him and make some snappy comment, but he needs his head clear and throb-free, thank you very much.

Valarie nods at him seriously, and heads into a room as soon as he gets close enough, and he nods at the police detail standing in front of Maldonado's door before heading inside and shutting it.

The captain has a single room, just as sterile white and silver as any other hospital room John has ever seen. And he's seen plenty, seeing as he's injured every other day and spent more than a year in one. Granted, he was in a really shitty coma at the time, but he's learned these hospital rooms really well. There's something really pathetic and sad about that, he thinks. Not the time to think about it though. He cringes and reaches for the knob by the overhead light, dimming it slightly.

"Headache." He grouses, when he sees Stahl and Sandra's questioning look. Plus, in the dim light maybe they won't see how fucking wrecked he is. 

This is toughest day he's had in a while.

He looks at the captain, her side bandaged, her left arm in a sling and her blazer hanging over her shoulders--and her hair more disheveled than he's ever seen it. 

Which basically means she still looks really well put together and unbothered by the entire situation. And of course John looks like he's been run over by a truck a few times, he knows he does.

She is looking intently at her phone and hasn't even acknowledged John's presence yet. It's really interesting to him how a woman who was just in a damn bomb blast mere hours ago can still look so completely put together and in control. Valerie snags a chair from one side of the bed and drags it around to face the captain. John takes a cue from the brunette and grabs a chair, turning it around and sitting in it backwards, leaning on the back of the chair on folded arms.

Sandra looks up and places her phone in her pants pocket.

"What's going on, John?" she says. This day must be as stressful for her as it was for John. She'd actually been injured in the damn attack.

John's mouth goes dry.

"So, Dorian," John feel a pang when he says the name, but he shakes himself out of it, "Uh-chased down the suspect after he got us out of the building-"

"Dorian found a suspect?" Sandra asks, snapping to attention.

"Yeah, some guy dressed in all black standing across the street watching the precinct burn." John says, anger winding tendrils in his words, "Dorian took off after him and I came with you to the hospital. Dorian hadn't been heard from for a while, and his signal fizzled out. We tracked him down though."

"Is he okay?" Sandra asks.

He knows what she expects. She expects him to say yes. 

She expects him to say yes because Dorian is a bot and has taken bullets and crowbars and fire and god knows what else, and has not even flinched. He has come back time and time again, each time with a playful jibe at John and a smirk.

He doesn't exactly know what to say. Valerie is looking at him quizzically, a hint of anxiety in her expression, and Sandra is looking at him steadily, her eyes never straying from his. They don't know. They don't know about the warehouse. And he doesn't know how to say it. He feels heat rising in his face and nausea rising in his throat and he stands, distancing himself from them and pacing the floor, looking at the ground.

"We found him in a warehouse." he starts, his stomach turning because robot or not, the situation is supremely fucked up,"His ah-pants were gone and he was covered in-" John takes a deep breath and tries not to puke, "ah-semen." he says, his eyes clenching. He doesn't want to see their faces for this next part, "Rudy concluded that someone used him like a sexbot. And ditched him there." He realizes that's not the _most_ articulate way to explain the situation, but he can't help it. He can hardly _think_ , much less explain what happened by the docks. So he uses Rudy's words and hopes they _get it_ so he doesn't have to explain anymore.

He hears a shifting noise, but doesn't open his eyes, not yet. He can't.

"Rudy said he was in sleep mode. He tried to wake him up, but he wouldn't let him. Dorian wanted to stay asleep." He says, "We figured he didn't want to face us. Uh-after what happened. At least not yet."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and opens his eyes slowly, blinking away the blurriness that only comes with a weeks worth of sleepless nights. He can literally _feel_ his hair graying. The stress is crushing.

"Shit." Sandra breathes, and she rubs a hand across her forehead. Valerie's jaw is clenched shut and her eyes have gone wide with shock.

She's looking a little green. 

John doesn't comment on it. He's been more than a little puke-y today, himself.

"The letter." Valerie says, voice shaky.

John nods at her. They both know where this is going.

"What letter?" Sandra asks.

"One delivered to the precinct. After the explosion. It was after they found Dorian." Valerie says, her voice tight and he eyes glassy and wide. She'd doing pretty well at keeping her composure, John thinks. Better than he is.

"It said they they wanted me or they were going to tell everyone." John says, "There was a picture of the warehouse attached. The same warehouse Dorian was in. We-" John chokes, "-we think-"

"They're going to wave around what they did to Dorian." Maldonado finishes, her voice hushed. He closes her eyes and sighs, rubbing her forehead, her poppy red nails a contrast to the sterile white of the room, "Like a damn victory banner."

"Yeah." John croaks.

"What kind of evidence do they have?" Valerie asks quietly, "They can't just rely one them saying what they did, so they have to have evidence of some kind. A video, pictures or a recording, maybe?" she suggests, going a bit whiter at the prospect.

"Most likely." Sandra says. Her voice sounds tired and John feels bad for dumping more on her. It's been a shitty day all 'round. 

 _'But mostly for Dorian'_ , he thinks.

"If they do have any evidence," Valerie starts, "Then they can use it for a number of things." she looks between John and Sandra, "They can use it to demean and embarrass the police department, or they can use it to spark doubt about whether droids can actually protect the public."

 _'Embarrass the police department.'_ John thinks sullenly. That seems like such a trivial facet of this entire shitty day. All the horrible things the DRN has suffered in the span of 2 hours alone, and the only concern is the effect it will have on the way people view the police department.

He can't even argue against that. He can't stand up and say that their first priority should be the one that was attacked, because in the end Dorian is an android and police property and John is a stubborn, self-destructive cop that should have been fired ages ago and has a fun and exciting collection of emotional problems. People already have trouble taking him seriously once they get their hands on his psych eval, he can't take this on too. He's already on shaky ground and constantly on the very cusp of getting fired.

He can't help even if he wanted to. Not without great detriment to himself, at least.

"Stahl, find Richard. Get that letter out of evidence, I want to see it." Maldonado says, "Kennex, go see Dorian, ask him if he knows if there's any evidence of what happened today."

Valerie nods and heads out the room, still a bit pale but determination painting her face in angry lines. John's stomach flips at the captain's order, and he balks at the idea of facing Dorian. Of asking him that question.

But he's a detective, and he's got a job to do. So he swallows thickly, nods and heads out the room.


	6. Chapter 6

John shivers his way back to the car and tries not to swear when he starts the ignition.

What is he even going to say? _'Hey there Dorian, I know you've just been through a really crappy experience but hey do you know if you were filmed by any chance? It's not to help you or anything, but to help the police department. You know. The one that owns you.'_

That doesn't sit right with him, for some reason. And maybe he doesn't know what to call what happened to Dorian, but he knows that it was supremely messed up. He wonders if he's getting more upset about it than he should. Dorian is a robot after all, he's built to be resilient and durable. He's built to bounce back from things.

Probably not things like this though.

He wonders how the DRN will react. He doesn't really want to know, if he's being truly honest with himself. He wants to ditch everything and go back home and curl up under the sheets and forget this day ever happened. 

He won't though. He won't ever forget this happened.

He pulls up to Rudy's lab and parks the car, taking his time, stalling until he gets himself under control. He would plan what to do or say, but every response he would think up hinges soley on how Dorian acts. Whether he's back to normal or not. And maybe he's being ridiculous. Maybe Dorian will greet him with that usual grin and make a jibe about his haircut and they'll be off solving crime and hurling good natured insults at each other like they usually do.

 _'Think positive, Kennex._ ' he thinks to himself.

Somehow, he doesn't think that's how it'll go, but that possibility is what gets him out of the car and into Rudy's lab.

The first thing he notices when he walks in, is the distinct lack of a DRN on the repair table. The lab is darker than it was when John had been there earlier, having his small existential mental debate as he paced the second floor. He kind of wishes Dorian was still being repaired, so that he could avoid this whole conversation for as long as possible. He knows it's wrong, he does, but he can't help it. He has no idea what to say.

Rudy isn't here either, he notices, but the brightest sliver of light is shining through the door in the back room. His heart hammers as he walks toward it, his boots making echoing noises with every step he takes. It sounds too loud in the quiet space, and John cringes. The closer he gets, the more he can see that the door is ajar. He can feel his stomach turning, and he calls "Dorian?" before he peeks inside the room.

No one.

The light is on but Dorian (nor Rudy) are no where to be found. John huffs and looks around, until he senses movement behind him and hears a faint mumble.

"John?"

John freezes and turns slowly, and is met with the sight of the DRN, though it's dark and he can barely see him properly. It also doesn't help that Dorian happens to be standing halfway behind a large spare MX charging station. His heart is hammering so loud he's sure that everyone within a 7 mile range can hear it, and his tongue is thick in his mouth. He gathers his courage and takes a step closer.

"Hey, man." He says. His voice sounds strange to him. Small. And far too soft. Like the stressful times in his unfortunate life when he had to try and soothe a child or a crying woman.

He chances a few more steps, and spies a nearby lamp on a table next to a small pile of spare parts. He moves slowly, not once looking away at the figure standing in front of him. He flicks the lamp on with one sharp movement and the small space fills with a soft, bright light. 

The first thing he notices is that Dorian is wearing new clothes. And he looks so much like _Dorian_ again that John feels a slight pressure in his chest, because no matter what, he's just glad to be looking at a _clean_ Dorian. A Dorian who is standing on his own. A Dorian who is awake and talking. The second thing he notices is that Dorian has moved away from him, further behind the charger.

Then it hits him. Dorian is _hiding_. He's inching closer and closer to the charging pod and farther away from John and the light from the lamp. 

The third thing is probably the worst. Whatever gleam of mischief or spark in his eyes is gone. They're dull and just as blue, but a lot less radiant and Dorian's face is as blank as an MX's. 

John tries not to think about what that could mean.

"You okay?" John asks, and he mentally kicks himself. What a stupid question. Of course he's not. _'Look at him, Kennex.'_ he scolds himself. John always says the wrong thing. He has the thought that Maldonado should have probably sent Valerie to do this.

"Yes." Dorian answers, voice soft. He doesn't sound like himself. Not at all. 

The blatant lie hangs in the air and John feels guilty. He doesn't know why, but he does.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks. He knows the answer, but he wants Dorian to tell him the truth.

 Dorian's eyes flicker to the ground before he whispers, "I don't know how to answer that."

"That's fine." John says, trying to keep his voice warm and pleasant, "Either way, it's fine."

Blue eyes flick to meet his, and Dorian takes a hesitant step closer, he's still mostly hidden behind the pod but it's a start, John thinks. They're still awkwardly far away from each other for two people having a conversation, but if Dorian is more comfortable this way then John won't press him.

"Is the Captain okay?" Dorian asks. The DRN's voice is quieter than he's ever heard it.

"She's fine."

Dorian nods, a short, jerky movement and his gaze falls to the ground.

The silence is full of questions that John can't ask. 

"Did you need something?" Dorian asks, his gaze never lifting from the floor.

John sighs and slowly moves sits on a nearby stool, his back hunching from exhaustion. He rubs at his eyes and decides to get it over with. Quick and painless, like ripping off a band-aid.

"Yeah, I-uh," he sighs again, "we needed to know if you remember if the guy from-" John feels himself shiver, "earlier has any kind of tangible evidence. From the warehouse."

Dorian flinches violently, a flash of intense fear crossing his features and then as soon as it arrived, it's gone. He inches further away--his eyes downcast--and John feels like the biggest asshole to walk the planet earth. He doesn't know how to deal with this. He's the least qualified person he knows to deal with anything _like_ this. John can't even handle distressed children or animals. He's not very graceful with words and he's callous, he knows he is, but he can't help it. When he tries to be gentle he just breaks everything anyway. 

And it's not even like he came to see the DRN just to see how he's doing, or to offer any support. He didn't come to visit his partner to make sure he's okay, because John is the kind of person that avoids any and all emotional garbage he possibly can. He came solely to ask a supremely painful question, and yeah, Dorian is a bot and maybe he shouldn't care so much, but ever since that first case he'd realized that well, Dorian is kind of different. From bots, from humans, from everyone.

He feels infinitely more guilty because even after everything he can't see Dorian as human or even of the same importance of one. He can't. And he feels terrible about it, he does, but he can't force his mind to rationalize and accept what he can't even understand, and John can't _understand_ Dorian. 

"There's a video." Dorian says, and John has to strain to hear him, "And pictures, I think."

John sighs and closes his eyes, running a hand through his hair. He doesn't know what to say, and he finds he doesn't have to say anything.

Because when the emotion passes and John opens his eyes, Dorian is gone.


	7. Chapter 7

"There's a video." he says to Maldonado on the phone as he pulls off the curb in front of Rudy's lab, "And possibly pictures."

He tries to push down the nausea when he thinks of the fact that someone has digital proof of what they did to Dorian, and he sighs heavily. He hears a matching exhale of breath on the other line as he makes a right turn onto the highway.

"Okay." Maldonado says, her voice tired and strained, "Go home, John. We'll meet up tomorrow, with Valerie and Richard. Get some rest. You've looked a bit sick all day."

John is silent for a beat.

"Yeah-uh. Thanks, Sandra." he says, because he's grateful for the opportunity to go home and process what's happened in the span of this very short day, but he's also unsure whether thinking on it too much is good for him. Probably not, but he'll cross that bridge when he gets to it.

"And John?" he hears over the line, "I need you on your A game for this one. I need you focused. This could get very bad. For all of us." He swallows thickly and takes a deep breath, steadying himself.

 _'And where does Dorian fit in all that?'_ he thinks, _'Does he not matter at all?'_

"Yeah." John replies, "Yeah, I got it."

Sandra bids him goodnight and hangs up.

His A game.

Right. He has to be useful in all this. He has to be able to function. _He has to get himself together-_

John gets home and pukes in the sink.

He's tired, dirty and strained, exhaustion making his limbs heavy and his eyelids droop. He disconnects his leg and falls into bed.

He's unconscious before he can even think about what the next day could possibly hold.

~

Dorian doesn't charge that night. He doesn't feel the need to. He's low on power, he knows that, but he just...doesn't care. He'd woken up to Rudy's piteous expression and he'd bolted, locking himself in the back room.

Rudy hadn't followed him, and he's glad because Dorian realizes that pit in his stomach is full of fear and crushing embarrassment. He doesn't want to talk, and he doesn't want to go anywhere or do anything, he doesn't even want to be awake. For the magical, two short seconds after being reawakened he'd forgotten what happened. The confusion of being reactivated compounded with the fact that he'd woken up somewhere so _familiar_ and so much like _home_ , he'd momentarily forgotten what had happened in the first place. And just like all euphoric highs, no matter how short, it had come crashing down. The flood of data that had thrown itself at him had frozen him until the sheer panic had risen, along with the sharp pangs of humiliation and defeat.

And then he'd run off.

He probably should have thanked Rudy for fixing him up yet _again_ , but he doesn't feel like talking. To anyone, really, but certainly not to someone who _knows_. Plus the tech had been _too close_ to him upon waking, and it had _scared_ him. Made him anxious and skittish. He's not used to being afraid. Only in moments when he truly thought he was going to die did he ever feel the emotion classified as fear. Now, every sound makes him flinch, and he can't even stand close to the people he knows (and somewhat likes) without feeling unsafe, terrified and vulnerable.

And he knows Rudy would never hurt him, but he had to get away.

He makes a note to apologize later, but somehow he doesn't think he'll get around to it. Rudy had left, and Dorian had no idea where he went, but he's glad to be alone.

He'd spent every minute since then spaced out and staring at the wall in the back room, ignoring his charger and trying not to think about it.

It's not working.

He still smells that man's breath. And feels the hands on him, leaving slimy scorching trails on his skin, and he still hears the lewd words echoing through his head, he still sees the circle of faces above him as they laugh and jeer. He still feels them inside him. He stiil feels his back rubbing against the concrete as they thrust into him. It's like he never left, like John and Rudy never found him. Like those men are still over him-hovering-calling him _'baby'_ and _'tight'_ and he can't fucking escape it. He feels sick. 

He doesn't even have the energy to be angry.

He'd done it to himself, chasing after a criminal and ignoring all the signs of danger. Ignoring his scanners and the statistics running at the bottom right side of his vision. He'd just wanted to _help_ , to do something that would make up for the precinct being attacked, but in the end his stupidity had gotten him into a worse predicament. One of shame and failure. It was his own fault. He should have been quicker, smarter, stronger. Should have fought harder.

It's his own fault. And now he's used and even more worthless than before, when he was just an outdated police android from a failed series that was scrapped after being branded a public failure. And now not only is he _still_ outdated and branded mentally unstable even _before_ this, but now he's also soiled and disgusting. And there's proof. Video proof. In HD with sound and crystal clear picture.

How can anyone even _look_ at him?

He doesn't know what to _do_.

It doesn't help that John came by and looked at him like he was some tiny, useless thing. And asked the particular question he did.  He knows the man didn't come to see him just to check on him and see if he was okay. Who would? He's useless and dirty, and nothing he ever does will change that. He still feels their come drying on his face. He knows it's not there, not anymore, but it doesn't help the nausea or the panic that rises in him.

He could just ignore it ever happened if no one else knew, but people _know_. John knows, and Rudy knows, and those MXs know and Dorian thinks about firing a hole through his head with his own gun. He could do it. It would be the coward's way out, he knows this, but he's already pretty much disgraced, so why not save himself the agony of having to face people? Why not? Why not spare himself the humiliation and the terrible memories and ghost of hands rubbing up and down his body?

The only thing that postpones that plan is the fact that he can't find his gun. And he won't go looking for it.

The thought of wandering around the dark lab makes him anxious. He knows he's alone, his scanners show no other people in the vicinity, but it still scares him. He can't help thinking that something might pop out of the shadows. So he returns to the back room and stares at the wall adjacent to his charger. 

He replays everything that happened. He's torturing himself, he is, but he can't escape it. It's everywhere and it hangs over him like a dark, foul-smelling cloud. He can still feel everything. Every little sensation. He's still there, and he going to be trapped in that warehouse for the rest of his humiliated and disgusting existence. It doesn't matter that he isn't physically there anymore. 

He deserved it.

It's his fault. He knows it is.

~

The shrill, annoying, piercing wail of his phone wakes John early the next morning.

He grumbles and rolls over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and clumsily reaches for the offending object before taking the call and putting it to his ear.

"Kennex." he mumbles, still half asleep, his face pressed into the pillow. 

"John."

Sandra.

"Meet me at my place as soon as you can. The precinct is down and we need a secure place to discuss this." she says quickly, "Stahl and Richard will be here soon. Hurry up." She hangs up and John is left holding a disconnected line to his ear and drooling ever so slightly.

"Good morning to you too." He mumbles, his arm dropping heavily onto the mattress.

He's gross, he knows he is. He didn't shower or even bother to take off his clothes before he fell into bed, and he can still feel the dirt and dust on his skin.

Yuck.

And then the events of the previous day come rushing back to him, and he sits up wearily, a groan mixing with the beeping of his leg telling him it's finished charging on it's stand in the kitchen. 

He hobbles to the bathroom for a shower and foolishly wonders how things could get any worse.


	8. Chapter 8

"You're in _my_ house, Kennex. Use a coaster." Sandra scolds, handing him the flat wooden disk.

"Sorry." he grumbles, and Richard snickers across from him. Valerie rolls her eyes and settles back with her beer.

Richard leans further back in his chair and looks over to his MX whose sitting a ways off, looking out of place and stiff on Maldonado's peach couch.

"You okay there, buddy?" He smirks, eyeing the bot. The MX turns to him and if John didn't know better, he'd say the android looked _surprised_ at the inquiry.

"I am adequate." the bot answers, voice monotonous and even, it's eyes blank.

 Richard smiles and shakes his head, "Yeah, okay."

John watches the exchange, and really misses Dorian.

~

Dorian replays the event over and over in his head until morning. Then, for some reason unknown to him, he suddenly starts panicking.

 _Really_ panicking.

His insides whir and heat up at an alarming rate and his body does the only thing it knows to do to cool him down.

He starts hyperventilating.

~

They explain the situation so far to Richard, and John lets Sandra and Valerie tell them the worst parts, the parts about Dorian and he watches Richard's face cloud over with a dark expression. He doesn't know what he expected. He and Richard never really got on, and he'd made callous jibes toward Dorian in the past and it's silly, John knows it is, but he's feeling protective of his partner. He's fully prepared to punch Richard full on in the face if he says anything slick. Anything at all. He doesn't think he will, Richard is still a good guy, even if he doesn't like John and John doesn't like him.

But he's prepared, his body wound tight like a bow string.

And again--as he does every so often--Richard _surprises_ him.

"Is he okay?" He asks, looking at John, brown eyes filled with sharp concern.

The question makes John freeze, his hand halfway in the air, beer bottle suspended just above his mouth. His mind reels to a stop and his hand shakes slightly.

No one has asked about Dorian. They've spoken about what happened to him, but always in the context of what it could mean for the reputation of the police department. And out of all people, Richard was the one who expressed blatant concern. 

John's shocked, to say the least. Even Valerie, as much as she has paled when the news reached her, hadn't asked whether he was okay _after_ the attack. Maldonado was too busy trying to keep her shattered precinct  & officers functional. John had _barely_ wanted to ask, he'd only asked how the DRN was doing because he was forced to face him. The turn of events had made them all uncomfortable, but Richard was the first one to directly address the issue in regards to Dorian's emotional state.

John's taken aback.

"I mean," Richard says, looking around at them,"He's made to feel things right? To be just like us?" His eyes settle on John again and his brow furrows in concern, "Is he okay?"

John coughs lightly and shifts in his chair. He tries to search for an easy answer, but then he figures out there _is_ an easy answer.

The truth.

"No." he says, "He's not."

A look of sympathy flashes across Richard's face and he clutches his beer before he takes a large gulp. Valerie shifts uncomfortably in her seat, her long ponytail swishing behind her. The tension hangs heavy between them, and they don't know how to talk about it--if they even _should_ talk about it.

"I got a call this morning."

All eyes turn to look at the captain. 

"The board wants us to lay low, for now. That means," Sandra turns to look at John,"We all go back to the cases we were working when this mess started. Everyone. Even Dorian."

"You can't be serious!"

"John-"

"They destroyed our precinct, nearly killed us! Dorian is barely fit for duty and-"

"He's going to have to be. They'll scrap him, John. They can't have robots wandering around with nothing to do." she sighs, "I don't like it either, but right now this is what they want us to do and they have the power to decommission your partner. We should comply."

"They want us to run away." John growls, "They want us to hide out until they attack us again. Typical."

 "John. Just go with it, okay?" Sandra sighs, rubbing a hand down her face, "It'll be best for us if we stay busy. There's nothing we can do right now."

"She's right." Valerie says, though she doesn't look happy about it, "We have to wait it out."

Richard grunts and looks over at his MX, before he looks back at Maldonado, his face resigned, "Yeah, sure."

John fumes silently.

~

It's Rudy who finds him. Gasping and trying to cool his overheating inner mechanics with as many deep breathes as he can manage, his energy level spiking and his vision fizzling out. He's terrified. He's getting far too used to that feeling way too quickly, he thinks to himself.

He can't feel his hands-the synthetic nerves seizing-and he presses his back against his charger, trying to ground himself.

He flinches violently when he feels someone touch his arm, distress signals firing off in his brain and he yanks himself away with a choked off noise. Someone calls his name (the voice sounds so damn familiar, but he's too panicked to place it) and he feels a small shock to his neck, and while his insides slow and cool down significantly, he feels no less anxious or afraid.

He vision fuzzes then clears and sharpens and he's faced with the sight of Rudy standing next to him, looking concerned and reproachful, his hair a mess as usual. He looks the same  as he always does, but Dorian flinches away and feels incredibly guilty as he does it. It's _Rudy_. His _friend_. He has to get over this. Dorian can't do this forever. Eventually he's going to have to talk to people and solve cases and just be _himself_ again.

He doesn't feel like himself. Not anymore.

Rudy has a metal rod in his hand and Dorian feels himself draw away slowly. He can't control his movements and he's terrified, but Rudy's face changes to one of patience as he distances himself from the android and puts his hands up in surrender, fidgeting slightly.

It's a sign.

_I'm your friend. I won't hurt you. I was trying to help._

That doesn't make him feel better.

He feels _embarrassed_. And of course that's not the tech's fault, it's the fact that Dorian is a huge mess right now and can't even seem to function without flinching or jumping out of his skin. All the scanners in the world wouldn't make the world a more predictable place for him. He's thankful to Rudy for making the unbearable panic stop though, and starts to say so before he gets an alert notice.

Back to work tomorrow. John will pick him up in the morning.

In a few hours he'll be trapped in a small car with another human male. He nearly panics again. 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

_John doesn't sleep much that night._

_He lays awake in bed, his eyes tearing holes in the ceiling and his his leg throbbing with a phantom pain that he only vaguely remembers, seeing as it hasn't bothered him since he met Dorian and started feeling some semblance of emotional and mental healing. He cringes when the though crosses his mind. He doesn't like to think that his improvement on all fronts hasn't been his own work. He hates the fact that he needed others to make him whole again. That he needed Dorian, Sandra, Valerie and hell, even Richard._

_Something about that feels weak to him._

_He wonders how Dorian is feeling. John himself may not be able to rationalize how Dorian feels, but his feelings must be real to him, John guesses. Doesn't that make them valid?_

_He wishes he wasn't so emotionally constipated so that he could ask without stuttering or fucking it up._

_He cares about Dorian, he does, even though he'd rather eat his other leg than admit it. He wants him to be okay, but he doesn't think that's in the cards. He remembers how Dorian inched away from him. And how he disappeared as soon as he possibly could. John has no idea how a synthetic soul works, but he thinks that the DRN may need some help getting though this._

_Like a human would._

_John remembers Richard's words ("He's made to feel things right? To be just like us?") and he entertains the possibility that he might have to play therapist for a while. It'll be uncomfortable, and John is going to feeling like puking more than once--he's sure of it-- but it's the least he can do, because if he's being honest with himself--_

_he likes the guy._

_Dorian had a hand in putting him back together. The snarking, the prying, even the unwanted scanning of his bodily functions ultimately helped him get back on his feet. He remembers to eat because Dorian was badgering him about it, his synthetic leg works and stays fully charged because Dorian wouldn't stop harping on it. He's more functional now and not nearly as depressed because the DRN had forced him to live, and annoyed the hell out of him when he refused to._

_John feels like kind of an asshole for trying to avoid the guy. He just didn't know what to do._

_So he makes up his mind. After all, there's no way in hell he'll be outdone by Richard fucking Paul._

_That's his last thought before exhaustion drags him under._

~

He waits outside Rudy's lab, the chilly November air making him slightly snippy. He really needs to get this car's heating system fixed, he thinks as he shivers in his seat.  He doesn't know what he'll say when Dorian gets into the car but he guesses he'll wing it. The door opens and Dorian plops down on the seat next to him. 

"You're actually on time today." Dorian quips with a smile when he looks over at his partner, "Good job, John. I knew you weren't hopeless, man."

John's mind reels to a stop as he takes in the DRN sitting next to him and smiling smugly. He doesn't understand. Dorian had been pretty much terrified the last time he'd seen him. He'd mumbled and hid and then disappeared. Why is he acting so normal now? 

The anxiety the detective feels is quickly being replaced by confusion.

"Uh-yeah." John stutters, staring at his partner. Dorian rolls his eyes and smiles once more before looking out of the window.

John blinks owlishly at the back of Dorian's curly head before he pulls himself together and pulls off the curb.

~

_Dorian made up his mind last night._

_He would just ignore it. He would just act as normal as humanly possible. He would smile and joke and pester John and he would just not think about it. He'll just act normal. That should work, right? It'll be tricky, but he can pull it off._

_If he doesn't, it could all go downhill. He could be tested again, or even decommissioned if they think he's going mental or breaking down in anyway._

_So it's simple. He won't break down._

_It's easy enough, he can just copy his commands and programming that he has saved from any previous day, and run those instead of coming up with new ones. It'll be awkward at first, making sure its the right command before he executes it, and it'll look stilted until he gets a handle on it, but he can fine tune it as he goes along._

_It doesn't feel right though. It feels like he's lying. Dorian doesn't like lying._

_Maybe letting them decommission him again wouldn't be so bad. The memories would stop, for one, and he wouldn't end up screwing up and getting anybody killed._

_He's thought of that too. Is it really in anyone's best interest for him to be back in the field? He jumps at his own shadow now, and he can't even approach Rudy. He could mess up and get John injured or even killed because of this new-found terror at everything that won't leave him alone. He can't burden anyone else with this. He can't be distracted or pulled in a million different directions. He has to push it down and be useful._

_He thinks he should probably ask to be shut down, but that terrifies him too. Because if he's shut down, everything will be dark. And if there's one thing Dorian hates these days, it's the dark._

_He's doomed either way. No matter what he does. That's his last thought before he steps into his charger and compresses his memories for the night._

~

John is absolutely thrilled.

Dorian is _fine_.

He doesn't need to have any awkward talks or walk on eggshells around him. Sure, what happened to the DRN was horrific, but in the end, Dorian is badgering him and being as annoying and sarcastic as he always was, and most importantly, he's _fine_.

Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine.

They finish their case rather early, Dorian connecting two points John never would have put together, so they're on to the next one.

It feels just like old times.

And if Dorian is willing to forget about what happened, then so is John.

This day is going better than he could have imagined.

~

Dorian thinks it's working.

He's actually getting something right. _Finally_.

He can hide it. This can actually work.

He can see the poorly concealed relief on John's face and he keeps the strained smile plastered on his and tries to control his movements as much as he can. He slips up when someone gets too close to him, but John doesn't notice as he flinches and scrambles away. He can't handle standing too close to anyone and he keeps his distance from John and the rest of the humans he comes in contact with, but he's doing well. He can tell. He recycles his old sentences from a few days ago word for word and John barely notices. Being in the car is difficult, the small space making him fidget and squirm as he tries not to bolt or sob, but he just turns and looks out the window and tries to keep it together. John seems fine with that arrangement.

Dorian feels awful. 

But at least he can hide it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers: Dorian totally isn't okay. And it all goes to shit (again) next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

John's feeling pretty good, considering the fact that his precinct went up in smoke three weeks ago. 

Granted, being shoved in with another precinct with strict orders from Maldonado not to pursue the one group of people he desperately wants to pursue wasn't ideal, and if he had it his way he'd be hunting InSyndicate right now, but John has his orders and no matter how insubordinate he is, he wouldn't go so far as to completely disregard what Sandra says.

He wants to keep his job after all.

John huffs and makes a right turn onto the highway, headed back to Rudy's lab to drop off his partner.

His partner who is currently looking out of the window and refusing to acknowledge his presence in the car, like he has everyday for the past three weeks.

John isn't sure what to say.

The fact that Dorian seems to shut down when he's forced to be in a close proximity to John worries him, but he wouldn't admit it or even know how to bring it up.

He still doesn't want to talk about it, or even think about it, but John isn't stupid. It escaped him for the first few days, but over the course of the past weeks he's noticed a few things. The flinching mostly, the distance, the fact that Dorian just said the same sentences over and over with the same inflection every day. Dorian probably thinks John wouldn't care enough to notice, but he does. John doesn't know whether to feel insulted about that or not. How could Dorian think he could get away with that? That John is so aloof and uncaring to the point where he has to say the same things over and over again to convince him he's okay? 

John may be emotionally constipated and a bit of an ass sometimes, but he knows that that's not normal behavior. For an MX maybe, but not Dorian. 

He has no idea how to address it though, or if he should even bother. He still isn't even sure how authentic Dorian emotions are, and if he was to acknowledge them would Dorian even want him to? He doesn't want to seem to talk about it, but John doesn't feel comfortable like this. He doesn't like the fact  that the topic has been hovering over them or standing there, huge and looming like the elephant in the room. He doesn't like seeing Dorian flinch or cringe and then put on a smile like he isn't jumping out of his skin. No matter how prickly or emotionally bankrupt John likes to pretend he is, he didn't become a cop for no reason. He became a cop because he's good at helping people, believe it or not.

He just doesn't know if Dorian even falls into that category.

He's thinking so hard he barely notices that he's pulled up in front of Rudy's lab, and he startles out of his mental rambling when Dorian moves and gets out of the car.

"Dorian." he says before he can stop himself or over think it, "Stay for a sec?"

The DRN pauses but makes no move to reenter the car, so John huffs and gets out. They're standing on either side of the car now, and John folds his arms on the roof, trying to look casual as he looks over at his partner.

"What is it?" Dorian asks, looking nervous, like he knows what's coming. They've been out and about solving cases with each other for three fucking weeks, John thinks, and this is the most genuine emotion that Dorian has shown in all that time.

"You okay?" John asks--voice stern--because he's going to get through this, dammit. He's an adult, he should be able to handle stuff like this, he needs to stop being a baby.

"Fine." Dorian answers, a beat too quickly. He looks like he notices his mistake too, because he shifts and looks away from John from the other side of the car, his eyes veering away and looking somewhere over John's head.

"I'm serious, Dorian." John says, trying to ignore the nausea rising in his throat, "You don't seem-."

"I'm fine, John." Dorian snaps, his eyes narrowing.

He's becoming defensive, and John _gets it_ because he would be defensive as hell too, but that won't stop him. He flashes back to their first argument, standing in the middle of the bullpen. 

"Well, that's a lie." John says icily.

"And you're the poster boy for mental health?" Dorian snaps, eyes glinting, "Leave it alone, John. Drop it."

"No."

Dorian's face becomes hard before he turns on his heel and walks away from the detective, heading towards the door to Rudy's lab.

John moves immediately, anger pushing through his chest as he blocks the DRN's way.

Dorian has some nerve.

He pushes his way into John's life, _forces_ him to recover and get _better_ and then won't accept the same in return. John is furious. He was perfectly content to be depressed and broken forever, and he had made himself comfortable in it, but then Dorian came and took it away and made him rise to become better. And while John is thankful for it now, it fucking _hurt_ back then. To be forced to be functional when he wanted to curl up and die, but Dorian had done that for him, even when he _hated_ the DRN for it. And now Dorian was just going to do the same thing.

Curl up and die. Without even letting John help.

He doesn't know when he got so protective of his partner, but he feels the rush now.

"Move out of my way, John." Dorian says quietly, his voice hesitant and he tries to sidestep him. John just follows him and glares.

"No."

"John-"

"No. Talk to me-" John says, because he won't let this happen. He doesn't know why, or how, but he _cares._ He doesn't know what changed in him, but he cares so damn much, and he can't let this kill him.

" _John._ "

He doesn't know how Dorian's emotions work, he doesn't, that's true, but he feels _something_ and he doesn't know what it is, but Dorian doesn't smile anymore, not for real. He doesn't laugh or say anything original and having to watch that is driving John crazy-

" _John!! Please, let go of me-_ " Dorian says, voice frantic and his body going rigid.

And that's when John realizes that he's grabbed the DRN's wrist. Dorian has stepped away, as far as he possibly can, and John's mind slows to a crawl as he looks at the DRN's face, eyes wide and afraid and he feels his hand closed around Dorian's arm. John feels his grip and with a sickening realization he notices that it's _crushing_ , that he's gripping the DRN so _tight_ and that he had been pulling Dorian toward him while Dorian pulled away.

He drops Dorian's arm it like it burned him.

As soon as he's released Dorian leaps back, his arm to his chest and John's heart plummets to the ground.

Dorian's looking at him like he's a _monster_.

He didn't mean to grab him, he really didn't. It was an accident and he'd gotten emotional and wasn't thinking. And even worse than making Dorian feel awkward about the conversation he'd been gearing up for, he'd _scared_ him.

The DRN's eyes have glazed over, and his neural net was firing off in blue. He's trembling slightly.

John feels like he could puke.

Dorian could have yanked his arm away from him-he's stronger than John-but clearly fear had frozen him and he'd been unable to react and break John's grip. That's what fear does. It takes away your power. John feels sick.

"I'm sorry, I-" He stutters as he tries to take a step forward, his arm outstretched towards the android but he realizes that he looks like he's about to grab him again and Dorian takes another step back, eyeing John warily.

_Dammit._

"Sorry." John croaks, and he has no idea what to do. He's fucked up and now Dorian was looking at him like John's going to _hurt_ him.

Dorian's jaw unclenches slightly and he shakes himself a bit and drops his arm. He looks _embarrassed_ , John realizes, before he looks at John with dead eyes and mumbles, "Don't touch me."

John holds his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" John stutters, "Sorry."

"Don't touch me." Dorian says, voice even, "Don't touch me."

"Okay," John says, "Okay. I'm sorry."

John can only look on helplessly as Dorian turns his back and walks off, the door to Rudy's lab closing behind him.

~~~

From there, it only gets worse.

John can't believe he thought everything would be okay.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

John falls into bed that night and tries not to scream.

Whatever trust Dorian had in him is gone.

He'd scared him--badly--and he has no idea how to fix it. It's a delicate situation and John is anything but delicate. He solves problems the only way he knows how, he kicks down doors or grabs people and tries to make them see reason. He's rough and he breaks a lot of things, but in the end he gets the job done, despite the fact that he's a little rough and torn around the edges.

That's why he became a cop and not a damn therapist. If he ever succeeds in calming a scared child or soothing someone as they cry it's completely accidental and he counts himself lucky.

But that rarely happens.

Anna always teasingly referred to him as 'grumpy bear'. Juvenile, but accurate. He buries deeper in his bed sheets and tries not to think about Anna. That's a rabbit hole he wants to forget about, he wants to cover it up and fill it in so he never has to go down there again.

So he thinks about Dorian.

He still doesn't know where he stands with what he thinks about the android's person-hood. He respects it of course, and wouldn't do anything Dorian doesn't want him to do, but he doesn't know how he fits into society's view of androids as a whole. Sure, there are organizations that raise hell for robots rights, but those people are seen as crazy, unstable or people who are emotionally stunted or not charismatic or normal enough for _actual_ people, so they fuck robots. No one ever takes them seriously--but John can't help but wonder if it's because they are constantly campaigning for bots with no personalities or true, scientifically proven feelings. Bots like MXs or sexbots who don't have the same advanced human qualities that the DRNs had. Dorian is so real, that John can't help but think that if the DRNs were around long enough for those robots' rights activists to start campaigning for them, they could have made a difference in where DRNs stood in society as a whole. But in the end, the DRNs were pulled from the market too early.

John can't help but feel like they were never given a chance.

He'd read the reports of what happened when the DRNs reportedly "snapped".

Some refused to speak, some cried incessantly and some took their own lives.

John rolls over and buries his head in his pillow, and tries not to think about how utterly _human_ those reactions are.

He falls into an uneasy sleep.

~

He wakes up to the harsh sound of his phone screaming at him from the nightstand. He groans as he rolls over, burying himself further into the warmth of the blankets and squeezes his eyes shut a little tighter, trying to ward off the impending headache.

Rude awakenings usually had his head pounding for the whole day, but he realizes he'll have to suck it up when he sees that its Valerie calling.

It's 7 am. 

He's supposed to have at _least_ one more hour of sleep.

"Kennex." he slurs, sleep still sticking to his tongue and making his words slow and thick. John rubs at his eyes and flails pathetically as he struggles to sit up.

He'd never really learned how to do that properly when he lost his leg. He's off kilter when he doesn't have the synthetic limb attached.

"John? We need you to come in. Now." 

Something's wrong. He can tell. The voice on the other end of the phone, usually so calm and collected is now clipped and tight, and John knows that of Valerie is tense, something is wrong. He forces his body out of bed and into the wheelchair by his bed. 

"Okay, I'll get Dorian and-"

"No." 

John stops in the process of wheeling himself over to the charging port for his leg.

"What?"

"Don't bring Dorian. Leave him where he is. Captain's orders." 

John's stomach drops because this isn't what he wanted to wake up to. After his slip up with Dorian yesterday night, he just wants another uneventful week. Why does his world come crashing down every other day? Can't he get a break? He's concerned, but he's also annoyed. He huffs and continues wheeling himself to his leg before he snaps it on, standing up and bending the synthetic knee distractedly. 

"What the hell is going on Valerie?"

"John-"

"Just tell me." 

There's a deafening pause before Valerie sighs. She sounds as tired as he feels. He wonders vaguely how Dorian is doing before he hears a soft voice on the other end of the line.

"They released the video. Of Dorian. They-" Valerie stops and John can only faintly hear her shudder a breath before his stomach lurches painfully and his brain slows.

"They released the entire thing to the public. Every news station got it this morning." she says, "It's-it's going to get bad, John. For Dorian."

His heart feels like it's stopped. 

_No no no no no no no no no no-_

_Shit-_

John's leg beeps and he rubs a hand down his face.

Because everything just got worse. It always does. He wonders why he fools himself into thinking things will be alright. Nothing has been alright for a long time. He's been able to fool himself but not anymore. 

And _Dorian_ -

"John?" Valerie says over the line, snapping John out of his thoughts, "Are you listening to me? InSyndicate has made it clear they want us to deliver you to them. Alive."

"But what are we going to do about the video? I need Dorian, he's my partner. I can't just leave him at Rudy's forever." 

John couldn't care less about InSyndicate wanting to kill him. He's used to being targeted and threatened. That's not his concern. He dresses quickly and tries to stop his hands from shaking as he pours himself a scalding hot cup of coffee.

"Well," Valerie says, "We don't know how people will react, John. He's an android but what happened to him will be seen as...unnerving. I don't think you want him around a lot of people right now." She pauses "He hasn't exactly been _okay_ , John."

John freezes mid-gulp and tries not to groan. Of course Valerie noticed that Dorian has been off lately. She's better at reading people than John. Whatever little bit of pride John has accumulated for being conscious of his partner's feelings dissipates and leaves a gaping hole in his chest.

"You noticed too."

He sighs heavily and throws on his coat, locking his door and making his way to his car.

"Of course I did." Valerie says, and she sounds sadder than John has ever heard her, "He's terrified, John. Of everyone."

The detective's stomach flops, "I know."

"The captain wants to see you."

"I'm on my way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Dorian. I'm being so horrible to him :(


	12. Chapter 12

John shivers his way into the precinct, the one that _isn't_ his home but will have to do until _their_ precinct is fixed, and he spies Valerie standing in front of a conference room up the stairs to his right. He's been nauseous since their phone call an hour ago, and he finds himself getting way too used to the feeling as he trudges up the stairs as Valerie waves him in and walks inside.

He follows and closes the door, turning stiffly to face Richard, Sandra and Valerie standing around a conference table looking at a screen.

The news, John realizes.

It's on mute, but the grim looking woman's face is positioned above a headline that reads, _'InSydicate Releases Disturbing Video'_ in big block-y lettering, and _'Police Department Has Yet To Make A Statement'_ under it in slightly smaller font.

He tries not to retch.

That's _Dorian_ they're talking about--Dorian, who likes drawing on car windows and singing annoying europop and korean pop songs loudly and off key in the car. Dorian who has to drop everything and pet every animal he sees no matter what. Dorian, who once went off on the genius of the biological makeup of flowers when John grumpily grumbled that he didn't see why they were so amazing one day--and this is going to hurt him the most, and no one seems to care.

Sandra turns when he enters and says, "This is bad, John."

Richard gives him a concerned look but rips his eyes away when he catches John staring back.

He doesn't even know what to say. 

"The board is calling for a press conference." Sandra sighs, "They want the department to release a statement." she looks at John. "They want _you_ to do it."

John blanches, he can't. He could barely stumble through telling Sandra and Valerie what happened, he couldn't face a room of reporters. It seems like a betrayal for Dorian too. He doesn't even want the people in this room to know, much less a bunch of reporters and politicians, along with every citizen in America.

But then it hits John like a ton of bricks.

They know _anyway_.

InSyndicate released the video, so any idiot could search it and pull it up.

The single most horrible thing Dorian has gone through in his incredibly short life and now it's available for public consumption.

"I can't." John says, trying to keep his voice steady.

"They aren't _asking_ , John." Sandra says, tone sympathetic, "I know this is hard for you-"

"Hard for me?" John scoffs bitterly, "I'm not the victim here. I think we all know who the _real_ victim is, but for some reason we don't deem that important enough to-"

"Dorian is property, John." Sandra says, cutting him off, "I don't like it anymore than you do, but that's how the board sees it. He's not priority."

"That's not fair!" John snaps, and he doesn't mean to get so angry, but he can't help it. Dorian is his _partner_ , and he's more human than most _actual_ humans John knows. The fact that he's being disregarded when he's in pain burns him up in a way he can hardly articulate.

He bites his lip until it bleeds.

"I know, John." Sandra says, voice soft, "I know. And if it was up to me, I'd pay for therapy for him and the whole nine yards, just like I would for my human officers. I _like_ Dorian. He's special. " She says, "He pulled me out of an explosion, remember?"

He does remember. He remembers every time Dorian has saved him, has saved them all, time and time again.

And this is what he gets for it. Raped and forgotten.

_Property._

John's stomach churns and he has to sit down.

~

Dorian doesn't understand.

John hasn't come to pick him up for shift this morning, and he can't seem to get a steady signal in order to call or ask what's going on.

He asked Rudy and the tech had merely paled and said he had something else to attend to then the thin man had disappeared, leaving the DRN standing by the door of the lab. He'd gone to open it only to find it locked. He's still too wary and frightened about what happened yesterday with John to seek out Rudy and demand answers, so he returns to his back room. But this doesn't feel right.

Something's wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

~

"I called Rudy." Richard says after a beat of silence, "I told him about the video and he cut all signals to the lab. Dorian can't access the internet. And he's taking precautions to keep him in the building."

John feels his brow furrow, "Why would you do that?"

Richard gives him a strange look, like John is asking why the sky is blue or some other obtuse question. "I figured that's not the best thing to wake up to. Maybe if we can keep it from him for as long as possible, and keep the public away from him, then we can think up a plan. I mean, he'll find out the footage has been released eventually, but if we can find a way to soften the blow, I think that's the way to go."

John sits in stunned silence and stares at Richard until Valerie speaks up, "So what now?"

"Well, John has to do the press conference and then we'll figure out where to go from there." 

John sighs and picks at the strand that's unraveling on his jacket cuff, "And when is the press conference?" he grumbles.

"In four days."

"And why do I-"

"Because you're Dorian's partner. And right now, you both are famous. Dorian has been attacked and InSyndicate wants your head."

John tries not to cringe, "And why do they want my head?"

Sandra looks at him sharply, not in anger, but in shock, "You interrupted one of their biggest black market hauls of the century, John. The fact that the mission failed doesn't mean that they aren't holding a grudge."

"What? Them blowing off my leg and putting me in a coma isn't enough for them?" He snaps.  
  
"Apparently not." Valerie deadpans.

"You still cost them millions of dollars, John. And you tarnished their reputation, not to mention the fact that you and Dorian have arrested over 30 InSyndicate gang members in the past few weeks alone." Sandra points out, "Of course they're keen to get rid of you both. And they want to do it publicly."

"Why?"

"To re-instill fear into the masses, probably." Richard says, anger simmering in his voice.

John sighs. He needs coffee.

"Well, what do I tell Dorian? I can't avoid him forever."

Sandra looks away, "Tell him when you absolutely have to, and only then. In the meantime, don't speak to any reporters until the conference. The board will send you the official statement, if you haven't got it already."

John sighs heavily and closes his eyes, trying not to scream.


	13. Chapter 13

There are reporters outside of the precinct as soon as they figure out which building John has been relocated to. John had been hiding out in the building for hours, not eager to face the public, seeing as his face is probably plastered on every television and news story in America.

It occurs to him that they think that maybe Dorian will be with him, and he grins and pushes passed the disappointed faces of the reporters when they see him walk out of the precinct alone and shove his way to his car, ignoring their questions and the flashbulbs going off in his face.

By the time he's in his car he's partially blind and ready to run them all over as they crowd around the car and tap on the window. He starts the ignition and steps on the gas quickly and takes his foot off just as quick so they scurry and run to avoid being flattened.

Good.

He can't imagine how it would have been if he'd had the DRN by his side. 

Richard is right, he's safer at Rudy's he decides as he tears out of the parking lot.

~

Dorian's beginning to feel trapped.

He hears Rudy rustling around outside, but now he's so anxious and skittish that he can't bring himself to head out and ask what the hell is going on. Does John not want him as a partner anymore after his freakout yesterday? He'd been working so hard to keep it together, but he screwed up just like he always does, and now John has ditched him.

It serves him right, he supposes. He's useless anyway, and he jumps at his own shadow and panics at the slightest noises. That doesn't make for a good police officer. Or partner.

He understands.

It still hurts though.

He _thought_ he was doing a good job, keeping up appearances. John seemed to buy it.

His job had kept him occupied, and kept his mind off of the hands he could still feel touching him and the feel of the men inside of him or the smell of their breath, and even though he was terrified and tense 99 percent of the time, it still helped to do something other than sit around and stare at the wall all day.

But now that's all he could think of to do.

Before, Dorian could think of a million things that would keep his mind occupied. Even if it was playing a game in his head or reading a book or talking to Rudy. Now his mind felt slow and lifeless, and all of his hobbies have been replaced with reliving every moment of what happened in the warehouse.

It's like he never left.

He stills feels everything. 

He's disgusted with himself more and more each day.

~

John drives around for a bit, mind wandering and stomach roiling. He can't seem to make sense of anything going on, and he stops for a coffee and lingers by the stand until he sees the curious glance of civilians starting to notice him and who he is, and then he hurries back to his car, pulling off and trying not to puke.

He can't believe this.

Of course this is what he's known for. Being hunted by the most dangerous gang that America has ever known.

He heads back to his apartment, making sure no one follows him him home and feels a mild sense of happiness when he finds no press camped out in front of his home.

He showers and falls into bed--watching the sun go down outside his window--and tries not to think.

He receives a text from Sandra telling him to lay low until the press conference.

He reads it, then falls into a fitful and uneasy sleep.

~

He lays low for the next two days, watching television and sleeping for hours at a time, but on the third day--the day before his public appearance--he finds himself going insane and decides on going out to eat instead of staying cooped up in the house. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he's lonely and restless. He's not used to spending long days alone anymore, and while that would have been ideal a year ago--to be left alone--it's depressing and dreary now. He misses Dorian.

So he goes to noodle bar. It's a small and simple place, two lights have blown out, giving a dim and dark look and Dorian would probably not approve of John eating here, but he goes in anyway and orders his food, parking himself in the corner of the dark restaurant. He's bothered to put on a cap, because as reckless as John is, he doesn't want to be recognized as he sits in the corner and eats in silence.

His incognito disguise seems to be working for him, he concludes.

Then he sees the chair across from him pull out and his head snaps up in shock to see a small, curly-haired redhead woman sitting across from him, blue eyes blazing.

He opens his mouth so say something, annoyance bubbling up in his throat, but he's cut off when the girl snaps, "Shut up, Kennex. We need to talk."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is about to checked on his privilege aw shiitttttt

John sputters--flecks of noodle broth flinging about--and looks at the young woman in front of him.

She couldn't be more than 19 and she was wearing a denim jacket over a short, floral dress. She looked like a _kid_ \--an angry kid--but a kid. Her curls were braided into a messy side ponytail and her eyes bore into him as he gaped at her stupidly.

"You're DRN-0167's partner right?" she asks, her voice light and serious "I have a bone to pick with you, _sir_." She sneers the last word and John feels his eyes widen. How does this kid know Dorian's model number? 

"Who the _hell_ are you?" John snaps.

"A concerned citizen." She deadpans.

"Concerned about what?" 

"Your partner."

"Why?"

"Because _you're_ a crummy partner."

"What?"

"Why have you not said anything?"

"Huh?"

"About what happened to him, why have you not said anything?" She hisses, leaning forward.

"That's none of your-"

"Yes, it _is_ my business. When I see someone being hurt and forgotten I _make_ it my business. Why? Because I'm a decent _fucking_ human being." she sneers, "Unlike you lot at the police department."

John gapes at her, his mouth still hanging open and his food long forgotten. She doesn't seem to care about his shock though, and she continues talking.

"I assume that your department is just going to treat this poor guy like property," she deadpans, "when you should be helping him and making sure he gets justice. Not surprising."

She reaches behind her and John sees that shes been wearing a small backpack the entire time as she rips open the zipper and pulls out some papers.

"These are the reports about the DRN's that snapped. Before they were decommissioned. Don't ask me how I got these, just pay attention." She snaps when he sees John prepare to say something about how she got a hold of classified police files.

"All of these poor guys didn't know how to cope with the stress of the job. The stress _you_ and _your superiors_ put them under. Ever wonder why?" She asks sharply, "Because apparently, when you create someone to be as human as possible and then treat them as objects, disregard their feelings and tell them they are machines to be used when you've created them to be the exact _opposite_ of that, they don't handle it very well. Go _figure_." her blue eyes narrow, "And now, your partner has been attacked and you're just content for the department and the board to disregard his pain too. You're just going to let it happen. He may be an android, but he's not that different from us. He needs justice, not a press conference about how damage to police property will no longer be tolerated."

"You're a robots' rights' activist." John says slowly as it hits him. His mind his moving slowly and he can't seem to fully comprehend what's happening.

The girl pauses and her eyes flash, "Only the ones I think I can rightfully defend. Like the DRN's."

"And why do you defend them?" John asks, dumbly, eyes still wide. _What the hell is going on-_

"I'm _trying_ to tell you. Shut up and listen," she huffs, "They're just like us. They have personalities and feelings and desires. Isn't that enough?"

"They aren't human." John says, and it feels wrong to even say it, because it feels like he's denying that Dorian has any life in him, but it's true, Dorian isn't human, and he doesn't know how to deal with that. The redhead's eyes narrow and she looks furious.

" _Human_?" she spits, "Do you know what humans are doing to each other? How humans hurt and kill and destroy each other? Don't say _human_ like it's this amazing and elite club that only a select few can get into. It's a new age, old man. You know who also used to be called inhuman?" she cries, throwing her hands up in exasperation "Black people. And do you see how utterly stupid, cruel, disgusting and embarrassing we see that time was when we look upon it? How we cannot even fathom how we used to think that way? How we try to ignore and cover up that past because we cannot believe we acted so shamefully?"

John's heart stops.

"It's a new era. And decades from now there will be pictures and stories about how androids with souls weren't treated as equal, even though they feel the same as us. How they were not given agency over their own bodies or their lives and how they were owned as property and we'll look upon that with the same disgust in which we look upon slavery, segregation or the fact that we had to struggle to the death for gay rights."

She leans forward, "You need to fight for your partner because he is as real as you. And you do not get to decide whether someone deserves to be equal or not. Your silence these past few days has been consent for the media and for _humans_ to disrespect his person-hood and his agency and to talk about him and his body like he's no more than a lamp or a vase and you need to be a good ally and _partner_ and do something about it. He was viciously  _raped_  and abused and now he's being treated like a damn toaster, for Christ's sake!  _Stand up for him_. He _needs_ _you_ , and your voice, and your privilege as a human. Use that! Other human's will listen to you when they won't listen to him. You have to do something! He cannot defend himself, so you must! I've seen the footage, he's saved you over and over and over again." she says passionately, "Does he not deserve that? Is he not your _friend? Do you not care?_ "

She is silent for a minute, her breathing heavy and John chokes on his own breath. He can't speak, he can't say a damn thing.

She moves to stand abruptly and turns her back to John before she looks over her shoulder at him, "Those white supremacists, or those crazy Christians holding up signs and protesting to spread their hate look pretty stupid now that we look at them from the future, huh?" she says calmly as she blinks at him, "Well it's clear they were on the wrong side of history back then, and they look like bigoted idiots. It's only matter of time that history repeats itself. Don't be on the wrong side of history, officer."

And with that the girl walks out of the restaurant, leaving John sitting there with his mouth open and his food cold in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of in love with this character I created is that weird?  
> She's like my dream lesbian lover.


	15. Chapter 15

John can feel the one noodle stuck in his throat.

But that's not his problem, he realizes as he watches the angry red-haired girl storm out of the darkened and dirty restaurant.

It's the fact that John has the nagging, jittery feeling that she's _right_.

And he's wrong. Been wrong.

So, so wrong. One, for ever doubting that what was done to Dorian is just as wrong as if it was done to anyone else, and two, for staying silent and being passive and letting people handle the assault of his partner with no input from him. He should be out there doing something, and if he, of all people is not in Dorian's corner, who would be?

His stomach turns to lead when he realizes that if anything like this happened to him, Dorian would do all he could (and probably a few things he couldn't) in order to make sure it was being dealt with, if he wouldn't be hunting down the people responsible himself. He knows this because something as small as the incident with the recollectionist when they first met, even when John showed up there of his own accord, Dorian nearly throttled the doctor that allowed John to harm himself, even though it was all, obviously, John's own insistence. The bot had been overprotective and willing to help John with anything should he need it, and even when the human was too broken and still licking wounds that had been burst open before they even met, even when he yelled and threw punches and turned him away, Dorian was always there and refused to be swayed. He insisted on helping, simply because he cared and because he _could_. Dorian poked, prodded and snipped the layers of haze and depression away, and while John still might not be up to function human being status, he's better than he would be if the android had never bothered to intervene and kept to his title or police partner to strictly that instead of barging in and making John reluctantly consider him the closest thing he has to a friend.

Days when he wanted to roll over and die only to wake up to Dorian standing over him and pulling him out of bed, trying to occupy his depressed, sluggish mind with a case or food or anything other than the dark thoughts have made a home in John's tired mind after he woke up from his coma.

Days when he felt like putting his gun in his mouth (and he _has_ considered it. At length, actually) but the plans had been derailed because the DRN dragged him to a bar or to Rudy's.

Days when it was just _hard_ , and life bore down on him with the weight of Pelham's dying body as he still feels the phantom arm of his dying partner around his shoulders when he tried to haul him to safety. When the accusatory stares of the officers in the precinct, who've lost partners and friends to John's mistake makes him want to hop in the car and drive himself off the docks and into the cold water below.

Days when he's just tired, but Dorian and the odd combination of Valerie, Sandra and even Richard have helped stave off the tragedy that the was harboring in his chest all these months. 

Mostly Dorian, though.

He huffs and leans back in his seat, the cook over the marble counter giving him a curious look and John has the dull thought that he's becoming way too sentimental for his own good.

But he can't help the guilt that seeps into his bones. His partner was hurt, seriously hurt, but John has just been grumbling and passive for it all. Dorian hasn't been okay, despite what he's been trying to convince John. The flinching, the repeated phrases and stiff stance when people got to close.

No, definitely not okay.

And even after this, he'd gone home and waited out the storm until his public appearance--where he's going to have to spew some manufactured bullshit about wrongful use of police property, and they're not going to care about how the DRN feels, they'll talk about him like he's a thing and not a being with emotions like he was created to be--and Dorian doesn't even know what's going on. He probably thinks John dumped him at Rudy's and forgot about him, or worse, asked for a new partner.

He probably thinks John ditched him.

And even as that thought echoes through his head, he has no idea what to do about it. Even if John pulled up to Rudy's and visited him, the DRN would want answers. He has to know something is up by now. 

John doesn't have the heart to tell him. He's not good with stuff like this. Delicacy isn't his forte, never has been.

And how could he even begin? _'Hey I'm sorry you were assaulted and I'm sorry no one seems to really care, even me, your partner. Oh yeah, also, the world knows what happened. Crazy week right?_ '

He feels sick just thinking about it.

He looks down at the remainder of his food and realizes he's been sitting in the restaurant for entirely too long. He gets up slowly, his muscles protesting the fact that he's been sitting on a hard bench for more than an hour, and throws away his trash, before stepping back out into the cold air. He stands outside, shifting from foot to foot and trying to figure out what to do and simultaneously keeping his head down so he can avoid being seen, but his thoughts are interrupted by a shrill ringing noise. His first thought is to ignore it as slight annoyance flashes across his consciousness, but it happens again. And again.

It takes him entirely too long to realize it's his phone, and he just barely avoids missing the call altogether when pulls out the thin, transparent object lighting up in various colors.

"Rudy."

"John-" he hears the tech croak over the line, and shit--he sounds _terrified_ , "-we have a problem."

His heart jumps, because honestly, the last thing any of them need are more problems. _Enough problems already_ , a voice in John's head growls.

"What happened, Rudy?" he snaps, he's at the end of his rope with all of this. Why can't anything just ever-

"Dorian's gone." Rudy says quietly, remorse lacing his voice.

John freezes. Gone? How? Why would-

_"What?"_

"I needed to turn on the signal in the lab for just a minute!" Rudy cries, "I needed to order a few parts for a bot and-and so I needed to switch it on. I thought Dorian was charging but-"

John swallows the thick, slimy spit has gathered in his mouth and his stomach flips. The nausea is back at full force.

"John, I think he saw the news. I think he knows."

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol is anyone even reading this anymore?  
> Anyway, sorry for the wait, holiday shit and all that.


	16. Chapter 16

"Rudy," he seethes, his teeth clenched together and fury rising in his throat, "what the hell?"

He can't blame Rudy for the terrified squeak that comes from the man on the other line, even John would say he sounds scary. His voice has taken on an angry growl, and he knows from the looks he's receiving and the fact that the group of teenage boys standing a few feet away from him have scurried off in a panic, that he looks just as murderous as he feels.

"I'm sorry, I know-I-" the tech stammers, and John can basically see him waving his hands about in panic, like he usually does, "I thought he was _charging_ , but-I checked in on him and he was gone. I-I checked the cameras too, he just took his gun and left."

He took his gun? Why would he take his gun? John's mind races as he slams his way into the car and starts the engine, throwing his phone and it bounces off the passenger door to land on the seat, until it hits him. He has no idea where Dorian _is_.

Where would he go? 

"John?" he hears Rudy's tinny voice ask faintly from the small phone speaker.

_Wherewouldhegowherewouldhegowherewouldhegowherewouldhewherewouldhego?_

John picks up the phone, fury making him squeeze it in his palm as the metal gives a whine of protest and disconnects the call, tossing his phone in the passengers seat--Dorian's seat, he thinks--and he tries not to punch the steering wheel.

He fails.

And he punches the steering wheel with everything he has. Dammit.

_Rudy had one fucking job._

_One_ job.

_Shit._

John takes a deep breath in the front seat, frustration and dare he say it--worry--making his heart pump and his hands shake. The seat next to him is way to empty. Dorian should be there, arguing about the music and drawing on the window. He should be making jibes about John's hair or making him eat gross foods in order to entertain himself when John drags him to restaurants.

He should be here. With John. Next to him. John tries not to think about the flutter in his stomach when he thinks about Dorian being close to him. This isn't the time. He needs to find him first, then he can panic about feelings and all that useless, gushy stuff.

Where would Dorian go?

The car is cold and John is freezing, streets outside gray and wet with rain, but he shivers and tries to think. He became a detective for a reason, for fuck's sake, and _this_ is one case he has to solve blindingly quickly. He shifts in his seat and tries not to scream. He scrubs a hand down his face and rips off his baseball cap, throwing it in the back seat angrily with a hard ' _pap'_ as it hits the backrest.

He clenches his eyes shut and tries to remember every little thing Dorian has ever said. Tries to remember places he's wanted to visit or see or drag John to on their off hours. He thinks about anywhere Dorian had wanted to go and his mind veers off with the iage of Dorian drawing on the window on that day. The day that completely shot their lives--Dorian's life, to shit--the fond look in the DRN's blue eyes as he drew the dog, then the cat, the soft smile on his face. The childlike happiness that radiated off of the DRN as John sat brooding and dark next to him.

He has to be _somewhere_.

Oh god, and what if someone recognized him? All DRN's have the same exact face, but Dorian is one of the only ones in the city, and certainly the only one dressed as a cop, so he would be spotted. What if someone finds him?

What if-

John starts the car and gets to driving. There's no reason why he can't be proactive and cover ground as he thinks and frets.

Shit, he thinks. That's exactly what he's doing isn't it? Fretting? Like an old woman.

To be fair, it is a dire situation. 

The thought strikes him as he turns onto another rainy street.

 _Duh, of course_. He's such an idiot, he thinks as he picks up his phone and dials but not before stopping and pulling the small earpiece out of the storage section on the dash. Dorian hid it there a few weeks ago, before this nightmare began, because John had been spending too much time on his phone when he should have been paying attention to the road. He pops it in his ear just as the person on the other line picks up.

"John?"

"Maldonado." John says, words rushing out of his mouth quicker than he can process them, "We think Dorian knows, and he left the lab and-"

"John, slow down." Sandra says, voice even but firm, "Dorian knows what?"

John gets the feeling that she knows what. She knows _exactly_ what.

"The video being released!" he snaps, the fraying edges of his patience wavering, "He's gone, I need you to to pull up the CCTV from the cameras around Rudy's lab so I can figure out which direction he went in. Send me the coordinates." he barks before disconnecting the call and throwing his phone back on the seat next to him.

He growls in annoyance as he swerves in front of another car going tortuously slow and speeds over to Rudy's lab.

And because his mind completely hates him (not like they've been on good terms lately, him and his mind) he gets another flash of Dorian, eye bright and smiling at him over a small puppy they'd found at a crime scene a while ago. The stark difference between the Dorian he had before this and the poor imitation of himself Dorian has been giving him is obvious and ever present. 

It makes his stomach turn. 

Whatever glowing light Dorian had had inside him, from his synthetic soul of just from his happiness to be able to do his job and annoy John every day, was gone. In it's place was a sad little flicker, if even that. 

A week ago, John wouldn't have even been able to attribute the signs of trauma to anyone other than a human. He hopes this means that something is changing.

It feels like a big breakthrough, but he's not too sure why. It's not like he has time to brood on it right now, either.

His phone beeps and he snatches it as he makes another sharp turn. He's seething as he watches the surveillance footage of Dorian briskly walking out of the lab, his shoulders tense and his entire body screaming something John hears loud and clear.

_'Something's wrong.'_

The DRN was headed north in the footage--grainy and static-ky as it was, he could see that clearly, John is just left wondering why they haven't _improved security cameras yet it's 2048 for Christ's sake_ \--so when John finally screeches to the curb in front of Rudy's lab, he changes direction and takes the route the DRN started on.

John has a slimy, uneasy feeling in his gut.

This won't be good.

No, not at all.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

John ends up driving around for hours.

Four hours, to be exact.

Everyone on the road seems to choose today to be as slow as possible, and John can barely contain his swears and growls as he has to pass _yet another_ idiot choosing to crawl along the street.

He's furious.

At Rudy, for being so fucking careless.

And at himself, for being a shitty partner and support system. 

He's ashamed of himself, really. He's not the warmest person, but he prides himself on doing as well as he can when he can and this time he just...didn't. He dropped the ball. Ditched his partner just because he didn't have a beating heart but instead had blue neural net lights running down his temples.

If DRN's have synthetic souls and feel what they feel and _believe_ what they feel, how could anyone question whether or not those feelings are authentic? How could humankind doubt it? Because the souls were man-made? At least they even  know what DRN souls are made out of, no one has any damn idea how humans souls are made or what they contain. And the fact that every DRN was so different in terms of personality, aspirations, gestures and every minute little detail that humans are, that should have done something to reassure people that other than the quirks that come with being android filled with metal, carbon-fiber and silicon, wasn't too different from being a human filled with blood and guts.

John feels like he's had some sort of breakthrough. Or something.

Too bad Dorian is still missing and he doesn't feel any better.

His hands flex on the steering wheel every now and again, anxiety coursing through him as he grips it until his knuckles turn white, his bones shifting under the thin, sallow skin around them.

His mind can't help but go over--over and over again-- everything he could have done differently since everything went to shit. He thinks about how he could have gone to see Dorian and _explained_ what the fuck was going on these past two days, instead of dumping the guy and ditching him, leaving him to hear about the fact that everyone knows about his violation from some news source and not the mouth of someone he knows. And now he's gone God knows where, and while John knows that the DRN can defend himself, this entire horrifying fiasco has taught him that Dorian isn't as invincible as he previously thought. He saw him bust through walls and take bullets to the chest at point blank range, and while he got damaged every now and again, he was a lot more resilient than John is, than Pelham was, than everyone. Ever since he met the DRN he's subconsciously put him in the 'unbreakable' category, so the fact that the DRN is now a bit down and out--and in need of some help for damage that might be irreparable--shocks John a bit, to say the least.

The guy was _raped_ , for Christ's sake, _he was forced to lay there while those monsters poisoned him from the inside out-_

John has to swallow back some bile that rushes up his throat. He remembers yet again, Dorian drawing the happy little cat and dog in the fog on the window, that fond smile on his face and his relaxed and content posture. He remembers Dorian's blank eyes, on his back, in that warehouse-

Before this, John would have never admitted that he liked the guy. If the possibility was proposed then he would have grumbled and shrugged it off if he didn't make an outright annoyed statement, very loudly, and with a multitude of swear words mixed in for everyone to hear. But now, now that Dorian isn't here and that he's potentially in danger, John admits to himself that yeah, he likes Dorian. Probably more than he should. But he can't dwell on that right now.

So he drives and tries not the think about where the DRN is and whether he's safe or not.

~

He ends up driving past the broken down and abandoned pet store they had checked out a while ago when there were reports of loiterers called in one day. He remembers that day, when they were assigned a lighter case after John had snapped and threatened not _only_ to shoot Richard's MX but also _Richard_ and Maldonado had been completely unamused and had enough of her surliest detective threatening to discharge his weapon on her _other_ detectives. Dorian had teased him about his lack of self control ( _"You're like a time-bomb, man. So much negative energy. Have you tried yoga? Or meditation? Or getting laid?_ "), John had snapped back (but secretly smirked behind the android's back) and they'd answered the call, expecting to find some stupid kids using the abandoned store to get high or have sex or something along those lines, or at worst, a few criminals using it for a front for something nefarious.

They'd found neither.

Instead they'd removed the graffiti-ed wooden plank on the door and were met with the sight of kittens, small rabbits,  and puppies (along with a small turtle) crawling about, making enough noise for someone to assume something was happening and call the cops to have them see what was going on inside. He vaguely wonders why the animals were so carelessly left here, and he sees his partners eyes light up at the small, furry creatures milling about before scooping up the turtle and sliding his fingers across it's shell, smirking at John as the man grumbled " _I_ _t had to fucking be kittens, of course it did"_  and his eyes started to water.

That's how John ended up sneezing--waiting for animal control and a representative from another shelter--while a little brown kitten wound itself through his legs and Dorian sat cross legged across the room, holding and entertaining several puppies and the small turtle. The place was huge, and John didn't ask how it went out of business, just assuming that it was--yet again--another sad example of eager first-time owners overshooting their goals and ending up with their store closed because of it. He could tell it used to be a nice place too, the ceilings were high and the counter was marble, the walls painted a happy yellow, though it was peeling off and dirty, and looked more sad and lonely than inviting now.

John had grumbled, but the animals were cute (not like he would admit it) and they didn't have to wait too long, plus Dorian seemed to enjoy it, and despite the vibes he put out, that helped make the situation better in a way he didn't care to understand back then. 

 _How could it feel so long ago now?_  

He slows down and eventually comes to a stop in front of the shop, the boarded windows and door giving it a slightly creepy vibe, a place that should be full of so much life now broken, cold and empty. 

John is out of the car before he can over-think it. He wonders what he's doing at the back of his mind, but then he finds himself walking to the door, and dislodging the plank of wood covering it. He should be looking for Dorian, he doesn't have time to screw around because Dorian is out there somewhere and-

The DRN is sitting on the old, crumbling counter facing away from John, stock still.


	18. Chapter 18

John doesn't move. 

How can he, when he's still terrified that Dorian will bolt? He must know John is there, his sensors and scanners must have alerted him as soon as John pulled up in front and tore the plank of wood off the door. Why Dorian hasn't moved is beyond him, however.

He's just content with the little bubble of satisfaction in his stomach _because he found him_.

Finally.

It doesn't escape him--no matter how shitty he is with feelings and gushy stuff as a whole--that this is a very delicate situation. He has to tread carefully here.

Very, _very_  carefully.

The last interaction with Dorian he had, he'd scared him pretty badly, getting too emotional and too pushy too fast.

He can't do that again. John has the sinking feeling that something is different this time.

He can't put his finger on it, and that's just typical for him, isn't it.

He's always too slow to pick up on the things that matter.

"Dorian?"

The DRN's name is out of his mouth before he can stop and _think_ , but he figures he hasn't screwed up too badly--it's just the android's _name_ , surely that can't set him off.

It doesn't, in fact. Dorian doesn't even move. Not a muscle. John has never seen him this horribly still, unless he's being repaired and has been temporarily deactivated while Rudy poked around his insides, stitching him back together wire by wire.

But right now? It's...unsettling, to say the least.

"Dorian?" he tries again, trying to make himself sound as soft and nonthreatening as possible. He moves a bit to the side, slowing, cringing at the sound of dirt and debris crunching under his heavy boots. His synthetic leg stings in protest of the slow, tense movement, but he has to see at least a sliver of Dorian's face. He has to see what he's feeling.

He hast to try. And isn't _that_ a wonder, John Kennex trying to do something other than drink himself to death. He fools himself into believing he's becoming a functioning human for the half a second it takes him to inch to the right and catch side of the DRN's brown cheek, lighting up in blue. He takes in the DRN's stiff posture, sitting up so straight it looks like it hurts, and the fact that his face is completely blank.

But not 'robot'-blank--where his eyes get that far away look when he's scanning something or looking inside his head--but blank in the sense that it looks like his soul is elsewhere, leaving a tired shell behind.

John really is getting a bit too mushy and poetic.

He catches sight of the gun, a poison thing lying in Dorian's lap.

His heart drops but his body moves forward quickly, taking a few large, frantic steps over to his partner until he hears an abrupt but quiet, "Don't."

The human freezes, his heart pounding in his chest and in his stomach and all he can think is this is fucking _insane_ -

"Don't, John." Dorian's voice is quiet and static-y, like John remembers it used to get when the DRN was a bit too hyped up with emotion. He's never heard the static this quiet before, it seems like some sick oxymoron. His partner is sitting there with his gun in his lap, looking like he's about to be led to his execution.

And John, as usual, has no idea what to do.

He tries to start with explaining himself.

"Dorian-" he says, his voice shaking in rage and worry, "I'm sorry, I should have told you what was going on-"

"Police property." Dorian mutters quietly.

John stops mid-apology, his brows furrowing, "What?"

"Misuse of police property." the DRN repeats slowly, "That's what they're calling it. What happened."

John feels sick for the millionth time today, "I-I know, they want me to make a statement." 

He has no idea if he should be telling the DRN this, but then again, he's been keeping things from him and look how that turned out.

"A statement." Dorian says slowly, like he's rolling the bitter, poison words around on his tongue.

John takes another tense, quiet step forward, "I won't do it if you don't want me to."

"A statement." Dorian says again, "At a press conference. To assure the public that police droids can still protect them, despite my...error."

John is silent, his stomach roiling and his tongue sticky in his mouth. What the hell does he even say to that? They both knew how this would be handled. That it would be insensitive and intrusive and _fucking painful-_

"Doria-"

"Everyone knows." He continues, as John hasn't spoken, "Everyone saw. The whole world saw."

He has no emotion in his voice, just that steady crackle of static. A sign that he's feeling so much but is keeping it a bay. He could be discussing the weather, for all John hears. His voice has no inflection. At all.

John has no idea how to respond, "I won't make a statement, Dorian. This isn't how this--how _you_ \--should be handled."

From his view to the DRN's right, he can see the corner of his lips quirk up into a pained imitation of a smirk. There's no humor in it. No _Dorian_ in it.

It's like he's completely _gone._

"And how should I be handled, John." He says it more as a statement, not a question, and John feels his anger flare.

"I don't know, man. Therapy maybe? Catching this guy and letting you put a bullet in his skull?" John snaps, "I'm not an expert, but that sounds like one hell of a start."

"A start." Dorian repeats in his dull tone, "It doesn't matter, does it?"

The DRN tilts his head in confusion, eyes glued to the peeling yellow paint of the wall in front of him, his brows furrowed.

John doesn't like that look.

"What doesn't matter?" John asks, the fire still in his voice, not sure he wants to know the answer.

"Me." Dorian says matter-of-factly, "And android isn't a person, not really. So it doesn't matter."

_Goddammit, he sounds like he's going over the details of a damn crime scene-_

"Bullshit!" John sneers angrily, His fists clenching at his sides "What the hell, Dorian?"

The DRN shrugs, "It's true. I've been told time and time again that it's true. By...everyone. So logic only dictates that that must be the case. The men in the warehouse said it. Captain Maldonado says it, Valerie says it, Richard does too. So do you."

He doesn't sound hurt or angry, but John feels the burning scorch of shame because he knows exactly what the DRN is talking about. They might not always say it out loud, but every time they interact with Dorian, they remind him that he doesn't matter. That his body doesn't matter, that his mind doesn't matter. That his feelings don't matter. All those microaggressions have snowballed into this.

He's second class, if he's not straight at the bottom.

And John, with every quip and sarcastic joke, has contributed to that.

But nothing could have been more damaging than having the power taken away from your body to be violated and then treated like an object even _after_ that. And then have the world tune in to know what happened to you. To view your _rape_ with the sort of comfortable desensitization that the country puts on to watch the evening news.

John is reminded yet again how fucking  _barbaric_  it all is.

"That's not true." John says slowly, "It's not. Listen to me, I was an ass, I admit it-"

"Not your fault-" Dorian says, cutting him off, "I've been thinking a lot today."

That doesn't sound good.

"And the pros of forcibly shutting myself down far outweigh the cons." 

John chokes on his saliva.

"Statistically speaking-"

"Dorian!"

"it would be beneficial to do away with the tech that-"

"Don't you fucking dare-"

"is causing the sense of doubt and distrust that the civilian population has been garnering for the police department since this began."

"Dorian, don't you _fucking_ dare-"

There is a moment of tense, worrying silence.

"I asked Rudy to delete the memories." Dorian whispers, "He couldn't. Whatever they had done, it _burned_ the footage into my hard drive. All of them. Every single one. They branded me with it. If Rudy takes it out...I lose everything."

_Jesus fucking Christ._

"I don't think I want to lose everything, John." he says, "I don't want to be blank and activated. I'd think I'd just want to be deactivated, like last time."

 _Shit_. He can't listen to _this._ The edges of his nerves are fraying and he can't listen to his partner talk about dying in such a nonchalant manner. He just can't. He can stand a lot of things, he _has._  

But this isn't one of them.

He gets the same flash of a memory, Dorian drawing on the window fog. His heart stutters.

"Listen, man-" John starts, trying to find the proper words and trying not to fuck everything up, "We can fix this, _I_ can fix this. Just-come with me."

Dorian shifts a bit on the counter, and John uses that moment to inch closer to the DRN. He's only about 2 feet away now, his legs shaking slightly with the effort of being as nimble and quiet as possible. He'll make a move for the gun when he gets close enough, he just has to keep Dorian talking and distracted. 

"Come on, man." John says, his tone inviting and bright, "Haven't you always wanted to see my place? We'll go there right now and you can make fun of all my trophies."

The DRN laughs sharply, the sound forced and echoing off of the walls. John cringes, but moves forward a little bit more. Almost there-

"I can fix this, Dorian." he says, "Trust me. Can you trust me?" he asks, his voice soft.

He needs this to work. He needs Dorian to let him pull a plan together, to do _something-_

"Dorian." He says softly as he moves closer. He's at his shoulder now, the golden sunset suddenly flooding through the cracks of the boards and the windows, coating them both in a shimmery, orange light.

"Trust me." John says again, as he takes another- final- step closer.

"Just..." he says again slowly, reaching around the DRN as slow as he possibly can, his hand making it's way to the loaded gun in his lap, "Trust me."

His fingers wrap around the cool metal, and once John is sure he has the firearm in his grip, he snaps his arm back so fast that his shoulder squeaks and protests slightly.

Dorian still hasn't moved.

John puts the gun in his holster under his civvy jacket before he hesitantly makes a bold choice.

He takes Dorian's arm, his grip gentle but firm and tugs a bit. He's intrigued to find that Dorian is _warm_ , the swell of muscle underneath his jacket feels so real.

He's a bit shocked when the DRN complies, sliding off of the counter and hopping down like a child. John is pleasantly surprised by the favorable turn of events, but refuses to take any chances, so he keeps his grip on Dorian's arm as he guides him to the door.

The DRN still has that vacant look in his eyes that makes John uneasy, but at least he has him now. He knows he can break his grip if he really felt like it, but one look at Dorian's face tells him his partner is so distant right now that it's not really a possibility. Their steps echo in the deserted store as John guides Dorian out of the run down building and to the car. The air is chilly, and John shivers slightly, the sunset casting an orange glow over the entire city street.

Dorian--face still blank (A little voice in John's mind whispers _'disassociation'_ )--allows himself to be gently nudged into the passenger's seat with no fuss, staring straight ahead as his partner jogs to the driver's side and slides in.

John locks the doors, just in case.

The situation isn't ideal--and John has no idea what to do next--but Dorian is next to him, where he belongs, and it feels like their first win in a really long time.

 


	19. Chapter 19

He drives a silent and spacey Dorian to his place.

John realizes how sudden and ill thought out this is. He doesn't even have a charger for the guy.

That's not going to stop him from taking Dorian with him (at this point nothing could stop him, the guy just calmly admitted to thinking--very seriously and nonchalantly--about killing himself, and John wasn't taking any chances), but it colors his plans with a shade of concern. Dorian looks out of the window, his face still as void of emotion as it was 10 minutes ago, and John tries to think about how to get a charger to his apartment on such short notice.

He'll have to call Rudy. He's still pissed at the skinny technician, but if he's being fair, John himself hasn't been doing such a good job with Dorian either. He doesn't have the right to throw stones. He's just as guilty, if not more. 

However he feels, he's going to have to ask Rudy to bring a charger over.

Dorian shifts in his seat, a nervous gesture he's developed being in such close quarters with John during their car rides since it happened.

'It'. John wonders if he's ever going to be able to say the word 'rape' in regards to what happened to his partner without bile rising in his throat.

He doubts it.

He really does.

~

_Dorian stares at the scenery as it passes._

_This is an odd feeling he's never had before._ _He decides he likes it and wishes he could be like this all the time._

_He doesn't feel like himself. He's shut down all the scanners and whirring mechanics of his head and now it's just...quiet. He can't feel anything, and it's freeing in a way he'd never imagined it could be. He'd always clung to his emotions, emphasized them to differentiate himself from MX's and endear himself to humans but he finds that it's wonderful to not care._

_To not feel._

_He doesn't feel the sensations of his body, and he can suddenly zone out and go somewhere quiet, somewhere so deep and blank in his mind that he can't ever find a way out of the void, nor does he want to. He can't feel his weight in the passenger's seat of John's car, he can't feel his back against the leather or his hand on his own leg. He can't feel his eyelids meeting when he blinks or his eyes moving in their sockets._

_He's completely numb and all is quiet._

_Quiet._

_Nothing has been quiet since the warehouse._

_But now it is._

_He only vaguely hears John muttering next to him and it strikes him that he should miss hearing John's voice clearly._

_He doesn't._

_He likes the feeling of not caring if he's deemed dysfunctional and sentenced to deactivation. He likes that he barely feels the emotional pain he's since it all went downhill._

_He doesn't feel those men anymore either. He doesn't feel anything. And he's so grateful._

_This is the happiest he's been in a while._

~

John shoots glances at the DRN when he can afford to take his eyes off the road. Dorian's condition doesn't seem to have changed, and that both worries and reassures him. Because that means he hasn't gotten worse, but unfortunately, he hasn't gotten better, either.

John kicks himself. How can he just expect him to get better?

John pulls up to the curb in front of his place and throws the car in park, and while he feels somewhat like a prison warden, he rounds the car and opens the passenger door, taking Dorian's arm and leading him inside. The DRN is still silent, and still warm.

~

_Dorian can, however, feel John holding his arm. His grip isn't tight enough to snap him out of the amazing haze and sense of disconnect he finds himself drifting in and, and not tight enough to cause him to panic, but it's there. He feels nothing else, but he feels John's warm hand holding him and guiding him. It's both feather light and firm._

_It's not a completely terrible feeling, he has to admit._

~

John guides Dorian inside, careful not to pull or push too hard or too much. The setting sun is still shining through his large windows and he catches a flinch from the DRN when Dorian looks directly out of the big window that takes up most of the living room wall, adjacent from the front door where they'd entered, and catches sight of the view of the sea. At that, John sets the bio lock on the front door, jamming his print onto the scanner--sealing it, and lets go of the DRN's arm and rushes over to close the curtain, blocking the view of the rippling water.

_'Okay, DRN's also suffer from PTSD. Got it.'_ John thinks. He looks back at the DRN and takes in his partner standing in the middle of the floor, hands at his sides, looking around.

~

_The room is big, and Dorian can see the a view of the sea right in front of him in the big arched window right in front of the couch._

_That gets through his pleasant haze. He feels himself flinch, no memories resurfacing but a sharp spark of something nasty in his brain. John sees it, he knows he does. That's the only reason he lets go of Dorian's arm and locks the door (a bio lock, of course. Dorian can't even escape unless he plans on breaking it down, seeing as the lock is coded to John's fingerprint) and rushes to close the blinds and shield the sea from view._

_Dorian would thank him, but that would almost certainly break this pleasant little disassociation stint he's grown to like, so he opts to looks around silently instead._

_John's space is big and rather airy for someone who enjoys sending his free time in dingy, cramped bars and noodle restaurants. The front door leads into the kitchen with steel countertops and a table far too large for one man, and that leads to a sizable living room with a holoscreen and a couch, complete with old-fashioned wooden bookshelves and two guitars on stands. A short divider is pulled back, revealing John's bedroom and bed (unmade, he notices) along with a whole other part of the apartment he can't see because it's located more toward the back._

_It's a nice space, with light coming in and plants on the windowsills, and hardly any walls, giving it an open, spacey vibe._

_He didn't expect this from John. It's...nice._

_Dorian stands in the middle of the floor before John approaches him hesitantly, and Dorian watches silently and absently._

~

"Do you-" John asks, because this could be taken the absolute wrong way if he's not careful, "do you want to change out of those clothes? You can borrow some of mine."

Dorian flinches again, and shakes his head-a jerky and tense movement, his eyes widening a bit.

"Okay, okay." John says hurriedly, "That's fine. Just-tell me if you want to change into something more comfortable later on."

God, he's bad at this.

Dorian is still silent.

"So you can-" John starts, gesturing around the apartment helplessly, "do whatever you want. Uh, entertain yourself. Or you can-sleep in the room if you want, if you...do that sort of thing." 

John is aware that he's floundering, horribly. So he turns away, his face red and his posture stiff with embarrassment and tries to locate his phone. 

He finds it on the couch and when he turns around, Dorian is standing in front of one of his bookcases, running his fingers over the spines of the books. He feels the first tug of a sad smile and dials Rudy.

~

_Dorian's happy haze is fading._

_The sight of sea had cracked it, and then John's offer to loan him clothes (which would require taking **off** his clothes, in the same general vicinity of another human male, which just petrified and terrified him, no matter how many doors were in the way of him and John as he changed) had cracked it even further.  Almost shattered it, honestly._

_He desperately clings on to what little bit of that fogginess he can. But of course, like all good things it seems, it's probably sure to escape him in the end._

_John tells him to entertain himself._

_He walks over to the bookcase._

~

"I need a charger." 

"You've found him?" Rudy cries, "Good. I've been quite worried. I didn't-"

"I need a charger." John repeats again. He doesn't feel like having this drawn out conversation with Rudy right now. He's annoyed with the man and more than a little drained in general.

"What-"

"Dorian is at my place." John says, his voice clipped, "He needs a charger."

He hears Rudy clang around for a second distantly over the line, and then the tech says, "That might take a while. The one he has here isn't exactly..."

"What, Rudy?" he snaps.

"Portable."

"And?" John hisses, knowing that the tech has something else to suggest.

"I'll procure a portable one. It just might take a while."

"Fine. Thanks." He makes the move stop hang up before he hears a tinny voice over the line.

"Wait-John." Rudy stutters, "Tell Dorian...I'm sorry."

John grunts and cuts the line.

~

It's 2 am and John wishes that charger would get here soon. Dorian is getting low on charge and looking more and more like a frightened, caged rabbit the lower his energy gets.

They haven't spoken at all, and the DRN has been slowly investigating John's apartment for the last few hours in between picking up various books and looking them over. 

~

_23%_

_Dorian's haze has dissipated. The world is suddenly too sharp, too clear and bright and loud--too many colors and smells and far too much data to process-- his sight becomes suddenly clouded with all of the usual text, data readings, graphs and statistics he'd pushed far away for those few amazingly calm hours all at once and he feels the first awful dredges of panic and fear of being encased in one space sliver up his spine like a slippery and disgusting eel. He feels energy he doesn't have to spare spike within him, and he can't stand still._ **_John locked the door, he locked the door and Dorian can't get out what if he can never get out he can't escape he's trapped trapped trapped just like last time-_ **

_John has been quiet, he notices even in his rising panic, and he can tell the detective is bracing himself for something. He catches hazel eyes every now and again, looking at him like he's a bomb that's about to go off at any given moment._

_And as he looks through John's family pictures hanging on the wall, he **feels**. And what he feels is his already shaky resolve starting to crumble and die along with his personality interface as his energy drops._

_Emotion uses up energy and ironically enough, Dorian feels a very vivid, real and devastating emotional breakdown coming on._

_He feels like he's dying_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian's got some stuff to say next chapter....


	20. Chapter 20

Dorian starts anxiously pacing the floor at 2:30 am. 

John is seated at his holo computer, idly browsing the web and trying his damnedest to stay awake (because no way in hell is he going to bed and leaving Dorian alone, god knows what will happen) while keeping one eye on the increasingly anxious DRN that can't seem to stand still. He hears his steps quickening before John turns his tired body in his seat and stares at him head on, his eyes burning with every blink.

Dorian paces from the bookshelf to the television, holding the book he'd been browsing through about half an hour ago, when John first noticed the DRN's blue eyes flicking out a bit as he jerkily picked through the pages of the book, his fingers twitching.

John has no idea what to do. He's tired and pissed off at Rudy for taking this long to find a damn charger in the first place, and now he has no idea how to stop the impending disaster that is his partner. He has no idea how to calm him down.

John has a press conference in about 6 hours. And he has no idea what he's to do about that either.

All in all, John is _lost_. He's lost and he's not qualified to deal with any of this. 

Dorian needs a damn therapist, not a mess of a cop who has a fun assortment of emotional issues, who is far too gruff and hard to deal with such a delicate situation. Such delicate _feelings_.

He's not that guy. He can't be that guy. Hell, he's such a fuck up he might end up hurting Dorian more, and he doesn't want to chance that. Everything he touches he breaks. He can't break him too.

Not him.

What the hell was he _thinking_ , bringing Dorian here like he could actually help him? He should have brought Dorian to a shrink or-or-

"Why did you lock the door?"

The question breaks through John's panicked and self deprecating haze, and Dorian's voice startles him. He sounds like he did in the pet store, albeit with a vein of underlying hysteria in his tone. The static is back, and John has no idea what to make of the question.

"Well," John starts, trying to act normal, "people usually lock their doors when they come home. It's kind of a common practice."

He winces. His voice sounds forced and deceptively light, like some pale, ugly imitation of how they used to banter before everything changed and turned to the rotted green it is now.

Dorian hasn't stop moving, the book clutched to his chest as his fingers worry at the ageing paper cover, crinkling it.

John finds he couldn't care less about the book. Books are replaceable.

"Can you unlock it?"

John's first, startled instinct is to say no.

Dorian could bolt, or someone could bust in (with their luck lately he wouldn't toss it off the list of completely fucked up possibilities) or any number of unsavory things could happen. But as he opens his mouth to answer he decides against it. Saying no would probably cause Dorian to panic more and feel trapped. He can't feed that fire of panic and fear. The DRN is already apprehensive of being so close to him, he can't make himself seem any more threatening than he already has.

He blinks, his eyes burning and tries another tactic.

"Why do you want it unlocked?" he says, keeping his voice low and soft. 

There, a question. He's given Dorian the power to answer and plead his case should he feel like it, without outright denying his request. He's left the conversation open to go anywhere.

He just hopes he's done the right thing.

The DRN's steps falter a bit before stops, clutching and fiddling with the delicate paper cover of the book a bit more roughly now, his face betraying only mild worry.

But John's knows better than that.

He's _terrified_.

The human tries not to be hurt that Dorian seems to be terrified about sharing a space with _him_ , especially when he's vulnerable and on low charge. It's not his place to be offended.

A few moments have tick past, and Dorian is still silent. He stares at John in fear, his eye fazing out every few odd seconds. 

"Too small." Dorian says, left eye going slightly purple, "I can't-"

"I can't just let you go wandering around, Dorian. It's not safe." John says, cutting him off. He knows that not letting Dorian talk won't inspire much trust, but he has to make him _understand_.

_'It's not safe for you out there. You're safe with me.'_

"Nowhere is safe." Dorian says, voice still startlingly even.

"Here is safe." John says.

_'You're safe with me.'_

"Why didn't you tell me?" the DRN asks.

"Tell you what?" John doesn't know why he asked that, he knows exactly what Dorian is talking about. God, he's so tired-

"About the news?" he says, his voice raising as his eyes flicker again, "That everyone knew. Why would you drop me at Rudy's, ignore me for days and then hunt me down?"

John feels himself frown and he looks away. He feels guilty about that, he does. But he doesn't know what to say. There is no defense. He fucked up. Like he always does.

"I had orders to lay low." he says miserably, "And I...didn't know what to say."

"You left me there."

John swallows, his heart pounding and shame swelling in his chest, "I did. I'm sorry."

"I have to leave." Dorian says suddenly, after a beat of silence, dropping the book on the nearest surface and walking to the door.

John is out of his seat in a flash, all trace of sleepiness gone as he races towards the door. He doesn't think, and he grabs Dorian's arm. 

But it's not like in the pet store, it's not like the walk to the car or the walk to the apartment door. This time his hand is harsh, because he's tired and agitated and _where the hell is Rudy with that damn charger-_

It's a terrible mistake. John is _so fucking good_ at making mistakes.

Dorian wrenches out of his hold with a sharp cry, and it's only when Dorian's enraged yell of, "Don't touch me!" pierces through the sound of the blood rushing in his ears does he realize what he's done. He drops his iron grip on Dorian's arm like it's burned him.

He takes a startled step back and looks at his partner. He looks frightened and _furious_. 

"Humans are always _touching_ me! _Stop_! _Stop it_! Stop touching me, I'm not your possession!" He shouts, his eyes fizzling to purple and back to blue, the lights on his temples running sharply, betraying all of the panic in his voice and face as he whirls on John, "Why do people always think they can just put their hands all over me?"

"Dorian-"

" _Don't touch me_. _No one has the right_. Don't touch me." he says again, his voice lowering.

John blinks, his rapid heart rate making his chest throb but he can't seem to look away from the fuming android in front of him. The situation isn't good, he knows that, but it's  _nice_ , _so fucking nice_ to get some _emotion_ out of Dorian. He's been so blank for so long that even this, the sight of Dorian furious and indignant and fuming at John nearly a foot away, makes him feel like some sort of breakthrough has occurred.

"I won't." John says, his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "I won't. I'm sorry. But it's not safe for you out there Dorian. You have to stay here. I know being stuck with me's not awesome for you right now-"

"'Not awesome for me right now'?" the DRN fumes, his voice rising, "'Not awesome for me right now'?"

"Listen, Dorian-"

"No, _you_ listen." Dorian sneers, "You can't keep me here."

"It's not safe out there." John cries, his arms dropping to his sides in anger, "You're safe here, with me-"

" _And where were you when I needed you?_ " Dorian yells hysterically, blue running up and down his temples sharply, eyes wide and hurt flashing across his face, " _Where?_   _Where were you?_ "

Everything seems to stop, and the bottom of John's stomach plummets through the floor. The guilt slams into him and he can barely breathe _because Dorian is right-_

"Dorian-" he chokes.

"But why does it matter to you, anyway? I annoy you. You want a human partner, so of course it doesn't matter to you. Ever since you activated me I've just been a complete pain in your ass, huh John? Making sure you eat and charge your leg and taking bullets for you. So annoying."

_Nononononono._

_This isn't how this is supposed to go-_

"That's not-"

"Did you watch the footage?" Dorian asks, his voice cold, "Of course you did. Everyone did."

"No I-"

"They had fun, I could tell. I'm sure everyone could tell." he says his voice loud, making John cringe.

John opens his mouth to respond-

But wait-

"They?" John says, hoping to every god that it's not what he thinks-

_'They'_? Not _' he'_? Not _'him'_? 

_Plural? Not singular?_

"And after the first guy, I completely blanked out and didn't even register the camera until-"

The first guy-

"They?!" John shouts over Dorian's rant.

Dorian cringes and flinches back from John's sudden, seething anger before he composes himself and smirks nastily, giving him an exaggerated look of pity, "Oh, you didn't know? There were 7 of them."

He feels himself go white, and his stomach lurch. He hadn't watched the footage. Of course he hadn't. Just the thought is enough to make him ill. He'd avoided the news like the _plague_ because he didn't want to see. He can't see. He can never-

Seven?

Seven.

This happened seven times. To Dorian.

Seven.

Blinding rage is now mixing with nausea in his stomach.

_He'd had no idea-_

"Yep. All seven."

He knows Dorian is goading him, trying to make him angry. He's seen this before, the inevitable lash out. Hurt leading to recklessness that always leads to wanting someone to punch your lights out just so you can get out of your own head for a while. He's been there, pushing people to their limits with his words just so someone can make him _ache_ and give him what he _deserves_ -

"One of them kissed me and called me a bang bot. A pretty one, too!" Dorian quips, feigning excitement, the cruel, nasty smile still marring his features, "Haven't you joked about me being a bang bot? Well, I guess I'm one now. Isn't that fun?"

John clenches his fists and imagines himself tearing faceless men apart with him bare hands. He can feel his anger making him flush,can feel his face twisting in fury, and he bites his tongue as he looks at Dorian.

Dorian, who used to be a bit too innocent for his own good.

Dorian, who drew on windows and made fun of John about his hair.

Dorian, who sat on the pet shop floor cradling puppies and petting a small turtle.

Dorian, who is standing before John now, talking about his own rape like it's some fun, sexy event, with that horrible, sick and fake look on his face. 

Dorian, who's so at the end of his rope that he's trying to get John to snap at him, yell at him and tell him he deserved it.

"Too bad you weren't there man, you could have joined in." Dorian sneers suddenly.

The detective's entire world stops and shifts. His stomach turns, he can taste the hints of bile in his mouth--and then he's seeing red.


	21. Chapter 21

When John can find his voice and is reasonably sure he won't throw up as soon as he opens his mouth, he looks Dorian right in the eye and hisses an enraged, "Stop it."

Dorian flinches again, and takes a minuscule step back, fear flashing across his face and his temples lighting up in blue, the twisted smile never leaving his face as he looks at John with cold, hard blue eyes. He opens his mouth to say something--probably something horrible, John guesses--but he makes sure to stop him before he starts.

"Dorian." John snaps, anger bubbling under his skin, "Stop it. _Shut up_. I said I'd fix this, dammit. Let me fix it. _Stop fighting me_."

The smirk disappears from Dorian's face as quickly as it appeared is replaced by a slightly broken, worried look as his right eyes fizzles out again, the blue snapping the purple in an instant. 

John refuses to give in to Dorian's jibes, his invites to make him feel worse than he already does. If Dorian wants someone to give as good as he gets and tear him down then he has to find someone else, John decides. Because he won't be the one to do it. He can't.

So they stand there, John still fuming and hurt by Dorian's venom filled statement, his stomach roiling and Dorian's power draining more and more as his face quickly snaps back into an expression of anger.

"And what am I to do, _Detective_?" Dorian hisses, his voice sharp, "Stand behind you while you defend me? Like I can't take care of myself?"

"That's not what I meant!" John shouts, throwing is hands up exasperation. _This is exhausting. If he would just listen-_

"Then why are you forcing me to stay here? Why did you even go searching for me in the first place? _What does it matter to you_? Am I not just 'silicon and carbon fiber'? That's what you said, right? Isn't that what you said?"

" _Fucking hell_ , Dorian, that's not what I-"

"What could you have _possibly_ meant?" Dorian shouts hysterically, a vein of static in his voice.

"You know I didn't mean it like that-"

"And how could I possibly know that?"

"Because I was _angry_ , because suddenly you were in my life and you were different and wanted to work with me and gave me all of your _attention_ and you were dragging me up out of my black hole of depression and anger and _it freaked me out!_ " he roars, feeling a flash of guilt as he sees Dorian flinch at the volume of his voice.

But that's what happened isn't it? Dorian had burst in and forced him to accept _camaraderie_ and help and his attention and _care_ , and John had fought him at every turn, scared of being seen as someone who Dorian cared for and wanted to be better. He'd yelled and fought and snapped at Dorian, because...well, shit-- _he was afraid_. Could anyone blame him? He thought he had no one else left in the _world,_ and he'd fashioned himself accordingly. He'd molded himself from steel, barbed wire and titanium because he knew he was _alone_. And the suddenly there was Dorian, with his eyes and his smile and calling John ' _man'_ and joking with him, trying to get him to smile and _not_ get himself killed.

He lowers his voice and rubs a hand across his face. _God, he's so fucking tired-_ ," Listen, I'm not arguing with you right now. You aren't thinking straight."

"And so you belittle me again. Amazing."

"That's not what I-"

"-I'm leaving."

"No, you're not!"

"Is this is your idea of keeping me safe? Holding me against my will?" Dorian sneers, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"When your 'will' could get you hurt, abducted or killed, then _yes_!" John snaps, "You're safe here."

"Sure. Because human males have such an amazing track record with me these days." he says nastily, and John feels his blood run cold.

"Don't pull that. I know what you're trying to do. And you know I would never-" John says wearily, exhaling heavily and choosing not to finish that statement. "You're killing me here, can you just sit down, please?"

"No."

"Dorian-"

"You should have left me there." the DRN says miserably, "In that pet store. You should have just-"

"You know I couldn't do that-"

"You could have. You _should_ have."

"Why would you say-"

"Why would you even bother searching?"

"Dorian-"

"Why?"

"Will you just-"

 _"Why bother?"_ the DRN says, and then that terrible smile is back on his face and the DRN opens his mouth to say something that will surely be _terrible_ and all of John's anger--just bubbling under his skin, all this time--bursts forth before he can tamper it down. Suddenly he's shouting at the top of his lungs, and he feels his vocal chords scraping as he screams louder than he possibly ever has.

" _Is it so completely unbelievable that I would care? About you?_ " John screams as his mind hazes out in a foggy red before he finds himself rapidly closing the distance between them and harshly grabbing Dorian by the forearms and advancing on him, shoving him against the door, " _Is it so out of the fucking realm of possibility that I would give a fuck? Is it?_ " He shouts in Dorian's terrified face as he emphasizes the last words with a slight shake, the DRN banging against the door and crying out in startled fear as John tries _to get him to understand-_

"Get off of me." Dorian whimpers, voice small, full-blown terror and horror at John's outburst marring his features. The DRN shifts in his hold, a whimper in his throat when he realizes that John has no intention of letting go. His terror is palpable, the feeling of a body so close to his making panic skyrocket and his body shake.

_John wouldn't-_

_Right?_

John is aware he looks completely insane, but only on a distant level. All of his primary brain functions seem to be geared toward trying to make Dorian understand in the only way he knows how-

" _You need to let me help._ " John rages, gripping the DRN's arms tighter and shaking him again, barely noticing that Dorian spoke at all. And Dorian can only feel the need to _escape escape escape because John might-_

_He might-_

"John, _get off of me. Stop._ " Dorian cries again, the lights on his temple whizzing up and down in fear as his eyes widen because _why isn't John letting go-_

_"You need to trust me-"_

_"Get off."_ Dorian shouts, His voice breaking and his body moving to shove John away from him. 

The punch is quick and pulled, but it's enough to land John on his back, for the pain to blind him momentarily as his face throbs and for him to feel the blood begin to gush from his nose. The fear in Dorian's voice only then begins to register, and he feels so fucking sick--of everything, but currently, mostly of himself--he's surprised the bile hasn't risen and choked him to death yet. He coughs wetly.

He can feel the bruise blossoming under his skin, and he can't help but think that he fucking _deserved_ that, his back to the floor and his legs bent at the knees, looking up at the ceiling. His mind goes blank for a about a second because shit- _that all happened so fast_ , but he hears a _thump_ , like the sound of another body hitting the floor.

A body that isn't _his_.

And shortly after that, a muffled sob.

That spurs him into manipulating his tired, useless body into sitting up on his forearms and ignoring his aching, bleeding face.

His partner is sitting with his back against the door, and his knees pulled up to his chest, but that's not what utterly destroys him. It's the fact that Dorian has his elbow pressed against and covering his mouth and his body shakes until John realizes that Dorian is fucking _sobbing_ into the crook of his elbow, eyes clenched shut, trying not to be heard. His other fist is clenched and in his lap, and he can see that Dorian is gripping and pulling at his jacket in fear and despair. John can see that his face has gone red, synthetic blood tingeing his brown skin as his eyes water before tears slip down his cheeks. His sobs are muffled, but they still echo through the apartment, making John want to melt right through the floor. He sits there sobbing, the lights on his temples weakly running down his face.

 

Dorian is _crying._

Dorian is curled in on himself up against John's front door, with his arm in front of his mouth, crying. He's violently shaking apart and looking utterly terrified.

And John did that. And sure, those men started the wound, but John keeps taking the knife and shoving it in deeper, twisting it every which way and making it bleed over and over again.

He _scared_ him. He keeps scaring him. He keeps _hurting_ him.

Christ-

Dorian probably thought John would-

Guilt, shame and nausea slam into him and he only barely gets up in time to make it to the kitchen sink before he throws up everything in his stomach, until all he feels is acid burning his tongue. It tastes as disgusting as he _feels_. As he _is_. 

It makes John wonder what kind of monster _he_ is.

Because as he hears Dorian's broken cries behind him, he knows for sure he is one.


	22. Chapter 22

John is hunched over the sink for about 3 minutes. By the time he can peel his middle off of the metal of the edge of the sink, his ribs ache and his stomach curls in on itself when he hears another muffled sob behind him.

And that's when he pretty much ditches every sense of bravado he's ever had. He's tired, _so fucking tired_ of keeping it up that he stiffly walks over to the distressed android and drops himself in front of him--a good few feet away seeing as him not being able to _control himself_ and stay a considerable distance is what ruined everything in the first place--onto his knees and he whispers a soft and tired, "I'm sorry, Dorian."

The DRN still has his eyes closed and he's still curled in on himself--like he's trying to protect his body from something ( _'Me'_ John thinks, and then he thinks, _'Everyone'_ )--and tears are still making their way down his face, although the sobs seem to have died down a bit, his neural net still weakly running up and down his temples.

"I'm sorry," John says again, running both hands over his face and hunching in on himself as if his spine is having trouble supporting him, either way, he doesn't care to hold himself up anymore, " _I'm so sorry_. I don't-I don't know how to deal with this."

He hasn't felt this sincere about anything in a while. And that's what depression does doesn't it? _'Suddenly everything is so 2D and you don't feel as violently as you did_ ', John remembers a therapist saying to him, before he started ditching the appointments altogether.

But right now, he feels it dredged up from the bottom of his soul as he glances at his broken, hurt partner and then down at his hands, "I'm so sorry."

He doesn't know what else to say. He feels the hot and slimy feeling of guilt and shame fill his chest until he can't breathe, and the moments pass in a silent, slow and depressing parade.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I didn't-I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to." Dorian says, voice quiet.

John's head snaps up, and he takes in his partner, still curled up against the door. His eyes are open and his face is still wet and in an expression of vague discomfort and fear. His heart quickens because _what the hell-_

"Hey, _no_. Don't apologize to me-"

"I'm also sorry for saying all those terrible things earlier." Dorian continues, and John is forced to applaud the attention to detail and skill demonstrated by Dorian's creators. He didn't even know DRN's _could_ cry, much less muster the red nose, cheeks and eyes that humans do. Yet here Dorian is, nose and cheeks red and blue eyes giving off the looks of strained tendons and veins that humans exhibit when in the middle (or in this case, the end) of an emotional crying jag.

He wonders why a police bot would need all of that. Then he has the thought that DRN's were possibly made for more than police work. It's a thought that he's had many times before.

"I didn't mean to hurt you or blame you for...anything. I don't fully understand why I said all that." Dorian goes on to say, shifting in his spot and looking defeated.

John looks at him, his heart clenching, "I'm sorry I grabbed you, and I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me...directly...after."

The brown-skinned man flinches at the mention and shifts again on the floor, "Not your fault."

"Dorian, don't defend me, okay? I fucked up. I'm sorry." John says. He's exhausted and his voice betrays that. He can't _imagine_ how the DRN feels.

To hell with pride. John isn't one for feelings, but this has to be said, because if he doesn't say it now, he never will, and that would be unacceptable.

John Kennex is not a coward. He can't be. Not in this area, not anymore. It clearly doesn't suit him.

It's gotten them nowhere.

"Look," John says, moving from his knees and instead crossing his legs and looking at the DRN across from him, making sure to stay a safe distance away, "I care about you. And I suck at showing that." He resolved to be strong and just get the words out, but that doesn't stop him from breaking eye contact with the DRN and looking down in his lap instead, "But uh- I do. So I'm here. For you. From now on. Sorry I wasn't before." He pauses, not knowing how to continue with the thought that just popped into his head.

This can either go very well, or very wrong. He hopes it turns out to be the former.

"I think-" he stutters, looking up at Dorian who is looking at him with a hesitant but wide-eyed surprise, "You should maybe...start telling me how you're feeling." he takes a breath, looking at Dorian's face and trying to gauge his expression, "And I'll listen. Just tell me what you need."

He tries not to blush at the statement, but the heat he feels in his face tells him he's failed miserably, "I just- I suck at knowing what you're thinking, so I think that it would help you too--to just, tell me what you feel as you feel it. Just...talk to me."

He looks into Dorian's face, and has the same flashback of the DRN drawing on the car window, "Please don't shut me out."

John realizes how awful that sounds, asking so much of Dorian when he's been pretty shitty to him for a really long time, so he rushes--stumbling over his words--and adds, "And-and tell me what you need from me and I'll do it. No discussion, no arguments. Just... tell me what you need. Anything."

John knows he's red as a damn cherry, but it had to be said.

Dorian shifts again, his expression changing into something John can't fully understand. They're silent for a while, just looking at each other, and with each passing moment, John is more and more convinced he's said something wrong. Dorian doesn't seem to be responding, and John is about to open his mouth and apologize before Dorian interrupts him.

"Thank you."

He sounds hesitant but touched and genuinely taken aback by John's little declaration. John snaps his mouth shut and the knot in his stomach loosens a little bit.

"I didn't think you'd want to talk about it. So I didn't." Dorian says, "I just tried to carry on as I usually did."

"I noticed." John says softly.

Dorian gives him an inquisitive look, his brows furrowing, but John can't help but notice that he still looks so _sad_ , even though his expressions are peeking through a bit more now. That sadness is still there. And John doesn't know how to make it go away.

He probably can't.

"I'll try to talk more. But-it sounds like it'll be...difficult and uncomfortable to do." the DRN continues, "But I understand how it would help. You and me."

John exhales. He feels bad asking for so much, but he can't help Dorian if he doesn't know how he's feeling. That's what he's been trying to do lately and look how _that_ turned out. He tells himself it's necessary. He hopes he's right.

"And in return," Dorian says, voice even (which these days John knows is a sign of distress for the android), "I have to ask that you please ask me if it's okay before you touch me. It's just-I can't-I can't-"

"It's fine. Sure. That's no problem, Dorian. Of course." he rushes to assure the stuttering DRN, whose eyes have widened and taken on that fearful look again.

He hates that look. No one should be afraid like that. Especially not for a simple request like asking consent before laying a hand on them.

John still feels vaguely sick.

"And, please don't yell anymore. It's...disconcerting." Dorian says, but John knows he really means frightening.

"Of course." John replies. He'd concede to anything Dorian wanted at this point. He just wants to make this okay. No matter what.

"And-" Dorian shift again, "I don't like being close. Physically. It's not you- It's just-"

"I understand." John says trying his hand at a shaky, hopefully reassuring smile at the DRN, "You don't have to explain, Dorian. It's fine. You call the shots. It's all fine."

The DRN is silent for a second, looking at John, his eyes searching his face.

A few more moments pass, but they feel a lot less tense, and John is thankful for half a second before Dorian speaks again.

"Did you mean it?" He asks softly, one eye phasing out to lavender again.

  
"Mean what?" 

Dorian shifts again, a nervous habit he seems to be developing from Rudy, John thinks, and he watches as the DRN unclenches a hand from his jacket and looks down at them, his fingers twisting together in nervousness.

"That you cared about me."

There's something in his voice that makes John want to scream _'YES YES YES OF COURSE',_ but of course no yelling is a new rule, and so John just says, "Of course I meant it. I meant it all." in his softest and least intimidating tone.

Dorian looks at him, relief in his eyes, and John can't help but add quietly, "It's only ever been you, you know."

He doesn't know what he means by that. He has an _idea_ , this entire catastrophe has shown him exactly how much Dorian means to him, but he's not sure that's an okay thing to say until he sees Dorian's eyes widen and the look of relief and genuine, hesitant happiness starts to seep into his expression, just a little.

~

And that's how Rudy finds them.

They're both sitting on John's floor, Dorian having moved a bit to let the skinny tech and the spare charger through John's front door, Dorian and John never breaking eye contact as Rudy apologizes for the delay and then awkwardly shuffles off after placing the charger in the center of the living room and realizing they're a bit invested in _each other_ at the moment and that he won't be able to get anything out of either of them, at least not right now.

He tells Dorian he's happy that he's okay and then he's gone.

~

They get up eventually.

John stretches, his joints popping slightly, and looks over at Dorian as the bot rises to his feet, his face no longer red, but still looking fragile.

John won't break him again.

~

John decides at 3 am that he's not going to that press conference. He's needed here. 

"John." Dorian's voice pierces through his thoughts, and he turns to see his partner shifting his weight from foot to foot, eyeing him hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"I-" Dorian stops, his face dropping, and he looks like he's at a complete loss for a moment.

John's stomach clenches, Dorian should never look like that. He should be sure of himself and not so...doubtful and hesitant and _afraid_.

"I would like to change now, if you're still offering the clothes." He says quickly.

John smiles, a small, hesitant thing that spreads across his face, "Sure. You can charge in my room, too. I'll take the couch."

"That's okay. I can-" Dorian starts, panic in his voice at the thought of putting John through the trouble.

"Dorian, it's okay." John says softly, "It's okay. It's okay. C'mon."

He leads the DRN into his bedroom, going through some drawers before pulling out some sweatpants. He sees Dorian's grateful, relieved look when he takes out a large long-sleeved shirt as opposed to a t-shirt or a tank top, and John remembers something about rape victims preferring to cover up and keep their bodies hidden.

His stomach clenches because _this is so fucked up-_

But he swallows down the emotion and places the clothes on the bed before he moves the portable charger into the room and places it next to the bed. It's not a standing charger, it's a small, box-like thing with wire coiled around it, and he assumes that it plugs into Dorian's data port behind his neck. 

He looks up at Dorian, the DRN looking at him with and odd expression.

"Uh-" he says, "there you go. You can change and charge on the bed. I'll be sleeping in the living room if you need anything."

Dorian nods and says a quiet, "Thank you, John." before he takes the clothes and heads into the bathroom.

The door shuts and John rubs a hand down his face, his eyelids weighed down suddenly, his momentarily forgotten exhaustion coming back at full force. He grabs some clothes, changes in the living room, and sets out to make up the sofa to sleep on. He puts his leg to charge before he hears the bathroom door open and Dorian's footsteps padding over to the bed along with the whir of the charger starting up.

He settles back onto the plush covers on the sofa, and he hears a soft, "Goodnight, John." from Dorian in the next room, and can make out the lights of the charger and the DRN laying on his side, looking _oh-so human_ with his arms under the pillow and his legs curled up to his chest, before he says, "Goodnight Dorian." and orders all of the lights in the apartment off.

His last thought is, _'Fuck that press conference'_ before he passes out.

 


	23. Chapter 23

John wakes up 15 hours later to 3 text messages, a voice mail from Sandra, and a despondent DRN. He peels open gummy eyelids and clumsily wipes at his face, his attempt a removing the drool from his mouth spreading it across his cheek instead. He checks the time. He's slept for a worrying amount of time, but he figures considering how little he's slept lately he shouldn't be too worried. Apparently his body needed it, and he's just glad that Dorian is still here at all, and hasn't found a way to escape.

He looks at his phone and already knows what's waiting for him, an angry police captain and a lecture in a very firm tone he can already hear as clear as day. But from his makeshift bed on the couch he can see Dorian sitting rigid on his bed, back straight and temples alight in streaks of blue.

He has no idea what to deal with first.

He's tempted to just burrow himself in the blankets and sleep for a few more hours and just ditch all responsibility, but his stomach twists with anxiety when he catches sight of Dorian sitting there, that distressed look on what little bit of his face that John can see. What if something is wrong?

Dammit.

He wrestles his body out of the blankets, his limbs sluggish and he almost falls off the couch entirely a few times, before he successfully extracts himself and pads over to the bedroom on bare feet, trying to make as much noise as possible so as not to startle the DRN when he finally approaches. 

John's attempts don't seem to matter because Dorian doesn't seem to hear him anyway. He remembers Dorian's rule not to get too close, so he keeps his distance.

He stands in the doorway, fidgeting, looking on as Dorian does whatever he does inside his own head, and it isn't until John huffs, shifts and clears his throat loudly does Dorian startle and look over at him, his clear blue eyes wide.

"Good afternoon, John." the DRN says, a tad too quickly for John's tastes.

Something's up. John isn't a detective just because he likes how it sounds.

"Hey," John says carefully, "What are you up to in here?"

Dorian shifts in his seat, discomfort on his face interlaced with the underlying fear that seems to make it's home there lately. John tries not to frown and keep his face blank.

"Just...reviewing old files." Dorian says, voice soft and posture stiff.

Old files?

John has a sudden flash of understanding and it makes him feel sick. He looks at his partner, wearing his too big clothes and looking like a kid caught doing something wrong (and it's yet another crushing reminder of how things have changed seeing as it's usually _John_ wearing that expression) and he remembers what Dorian said in the pet store.

_"I asked Rudy to delete the memories." Dorian whispers, "He couldn't. Whatever they had done, it burned the footage into my hard drive. All of them. Every single one. They branded me with it. If Rudy takes it out...I lose everything."_

John knows it's an awkward question to ask, but he desperately hopes he's wrong.

He fidgets in the doorway and crosses his arms nervously.

"Dorian," he starts, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, "You're not...watching the...what happened, are you?"

The looks of guilt that flashes across Dorian's face is all the answer he needs.

 _Shit_. Has he been doing this the entire time? Watching the footage over and over again? That's enough to fuck anyone up, much less someone going through a crisis like his partner is. John feels sick again. It's becoming such a normal feeling for him these days.

"Dorian, that's not _helping_." he says, "You can't relive that everyday, it'll kill you. It's not good for you."

The DRN flinches and the lights on his face stop and disappear.

"Have you been doing this every day?" John asks.

Dorian shifts and looks down.

Yet another answer he didn't want to hear.

"Dorian..." he starts, " _Why?_ "

He's asking because he wants to get Dorian talking more, but also because he's morbidly curious. Why would anyone want a reminder of something like that? John's sure that if he had raw footage of his leg being blown off he would avoid it at all costs, just like he avoided seeing the footage of Dorian's rape that has been broadcast on every news station.

Dorian's silent for a while, but when he talks his voice is quiet.

"I don't know."

John feels the strange urge to reach out and comfort him, which is odd because John is shit at comforting _anybody_ , much less the people who seem to need it most, but he stamps it down, remembering Dorian's request not to be touched without his permission.

"Well," John says, "Can you...maybe not watch that? I'm sure it's not helping, Dorian. It won't help you get past it."

"And _you're_ helping me get past it?" Dorian hisses suddenly, his face twisting in anger and John's stomach bottoms out before the look falls off the DRN's face as quickly as it appeared. John didn't even know Dorian had these kinds of mood swings, so quick and absolute. It occurs to him that he should just start expecting the same things he would expect from any other human. It's just...Dorian is so different. From man, from machine, from anyone or anything. He has the thought that maybe Dorian isn't meant to fit in this world, like he's meant to be somewhere else. Somewhere _better._  Better than all of this.

A few minutes pass in silence, the two men staring at each other with tension thickening the air between them.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that." Dorian says miserably, looking away.

"It's fine." John replies quickly.

"No it's not." Dorian says, "I keep saying awful things to you. I'm sorry."

"Well it's not like you mean it." John says, then he clears his throat nervously, "I...was a terror too after I woke up from my coma. I snapped at everybody. Made many a nurse and therapist cry." he smirks, though humor is missing from the gesture, "The point is, some emotional lash-outs are normal, so I've been told. Don't apologize, I get it. I'm not Mr. Sunshine either."

Dorian looks at him with wide blue eyes, and John fights the self conscious urge to look away.

"Thank you, John." he says, voice sincere.

"Don't thank me." the detective grumbles, "I'm just doing for you what you did for me. No big deal."

_I care about you._

How many time does he have to say it until Dorian just accepts it and stops being so fucking surprised that John gives a damn?

Dorian turns away, "I will...try to stop watching it."

The tension coiled in John's belly loosens slightly, "Good. Thank you."

They are silent for a while, John leaning against his door-frame--looking at the subtle details of imperfections Dorian's creators added to the skin of his face in order to make him appear more realistic--and Dorian seated on the bed.

"You missed your press conference." Dorian says after a while.

John had nearly forgotten. About the press conference, about the text messages and the no doubt furious voice message Maldonado must have left for him. He'd forgotten about it all.

Maybe he'll be fired.

He'd been hanging by a thread already, so it wouldn't be surprising if this was the last straw. He has the dull and lazy thought that he'll have to skip town with Dorian, seeing as they'd decommission him. The thought doesn't startle or upset him as much as it probably should.

But _that's_ something to think about later.

"I know. I didn't really plan on going anyway."

"Why?"

That's not the question he expected him to ask, but he pushes down his mild shock and exhales heavily, rubbing a hand down his face.

"I can't say what they want me to say."

"That I'm just a machine. And that it was merely 'misuse of police property' which is only a mild offense simply because it's inconvenient for human officers." Dorian says, his voice flat.

"Uh..." John croaks, "yeah."

"Oh."

"Because it's so much worse than..." John says, his voice trailing off as he stands there trying to reassure his partner, "I can't stand there and let them talk about you like that."

_I'm on your side._

_I'll fix it. Let me fix it._

_I can fix it._

"Oh."

"You know I'm on your side, right?" John says after a few moments of silence. He's afraid of the answer, and doesn't know what he'll do if Dorian says no, but he has to ask. He has to know. He has to know if _Dorian_ knows.

Dorian is silent for a few seconds, blue lights racing down his temple as he looks at John quizzically.

"Yes."

John exhales heavily, unaware he was even holding his breath, "Good."

"Thank you."

"Stop thanking me."

"I don't know what else to say."

"You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. It's all up to you Dorian."

And god, John is going to kill those guys in every slow and brutal way he knows how. Because Dorian should never have to be told that it's up to him, he never _had_ to be told that until those savages got a hold of him and stripped him from the inside out, took the guy that was so sure of himself and who he was and what he wanted and then tore him apart from the inside, leaving someone so timid and unsure in his place.

Everything about that is wrong.

"Okay." Dorian answers.

A few minutes more pass by in silence, before John says, "I missed the conference, and we can't just hide out forever. InSyndicate is still out there, but we need to do something about the board. They'll be furious I won't comply, and if they fire _me_ , they decommission _you_ , and I won't let that happen. That, paired with the political shitstorm on our hands-"

"What should we do?"

"I think we need a plan. Me and you. We're all we got, and I told you I'd fix this." John straightens up and looks at Dorian, a fire in his eyes, "And I meant it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!


	24. Chapter 24

The idea strikes him about 3 hours later.

He's at his kitchen table, browsing through the headlines on the holo screen of the computer in front of him and Dorian sits on his couch, watching a children's cartoon with a single-minded interest that John has only seen him reserve for the human detective himself, and puzzling cases. It all seems oddly domestic to him for a moment, until he remembers that he had to make an effort to ban Dorian from flipping to the news for fear of the DRN stumbling across a story about his own violation. 

John has enough to deal with and figure out as it is, he doesn't need to see the horrific footage on top of it and he certainly doesn't need _Dorian_  seeing it and having some sort of adverse reaction. So Dorian had looked him in the eyes serenely, and flipped to a channel that John didn't even knew the DRN knew about. Cartoons. Currently, one where a pony was trying to explain to children a concept that John quickly realized was some abstract metaphor for racism.

Hm.

He turns back to his screen, switching to emails, avoiding the ones from Sandra and the snippish, angry and stuffy sounding official subject line from the board--probably threatening John with some sort of code violation for backing out of the conference with no warning whatsoever--before he decides there's nothing worth reading, and everything he  _should_  be reading are all threats and angry letters from bureaucrats with enough sticks up their ass to light a fire and that don't care about Dorian either way.

He switches back to the news homepage (thankfully free of all Dorian and Kennex related news) and tries to figure out what the hell he's going to do.

If he gets fired, Dorian is being deactivated, there's no getting around that, unless they pack up and disappear. An option that John is weirdly fine with, it's not like he'd be alone, but that's a worst case scenario type of thing.

But is it really? He leans back in his chair, sighing.

Maybe they should just skip town now. Before they get tired of waiting--InSyndicate, the board, all of them, really--maybe they should just bite the bullet and disappear.

And that's when John starts to wrack his brain.

His first thought is that they should at least try to salvage what they have here first. Even if he could care less,  _Dorian_  likes being a cop.

He should at least _try_ , before he asks the guy to run away with him.

But what can he do? The police department is their enemy right now. And what can possibly make them see reason? The only reason they are even bugging them right now is because people have lost faith in the department, after a precinct being bombed and footage of them violating a police bot has now gone viral. If the community wasn't rattled by this, they would have brushed Dorian off and told him to get back to work, whether he was hurting emotionally or not. And since when was the police department at the will of the people anyway?

And that's when it hits him. The people. John sits upright in his chair as the thought hits him, and he's not sure whether its his mind subconsciously absorbing the contents of the cartoons Dorian is occupying himself with, but he can almost feel the light bulb blink on over his head. Bright and blazing.

_The people._

The entire reason that John had to give that conference was to reassure the people. If they weren't ill at ease then no one would care about what happened to Dorian. Sad and infuriating--John feels a red haze of anger flash across his mind even as he so much as thinks about the complete disregard others have for his partner--but ultimately, true. 

But what if--what if-- John could get them to see Dorian as he does?

What if he could get them to  _care_  about him?

It's not hard, John thinks, as looks at the DRN sitting upright on his couch, back a little too stiff and lines of discomfort obvious in his shoulders. Everyone likes Dorian when they meet him.

If they could do some good--no,  _great_ \--PR, then even if John gets canned, the general public would be outraged that a lovable android was decommissioned and the department won't do it. They're at the will of the people, after all.

"Dorian?"

The DRN starts and turns to look at John, his face blank, "Yes, John?"

"I think I have an idea."

~

Sandra is going to kill Kennex. It might get her fired, and she might end up in the cubes, but she is going to kill him.

Because that stubborn man is going to be the death of her.

She crosses her legs in her chair and takes a quick look around the cold, hard and sterile room, all silver desks and solid chairs. The decoration makes a point to show that one shouldn't get comfortable. The furniture and the panel of stone-faced bureaucrats sitting in front of her with thinly veiled anger on their faces really bring that point home. 

Sandra still knows she looks just as put together and comfortable as she ever does. And she hopes that annoys them, she really does. 

They might be able to fluster other captains, but not her. She looks back at them with half lidded eyes and an easy expression as the man in the center of the panel--who looks a lot like an english bulldog, she decides-- hisses, "And are these the kinds of officers that you allow in your precinct, Captain?"

And god help her, she's going to murder John Kennex, but right now, she's going to defend him with everything she's got.

"If you mean headstrong and courageous officers who do only what they feel is right, then yes." she answers easily, her voice light and even.

"He blatantly disobeyed direct orders!" 

"I'm sure he had a reason, and in any case, I have no idea where he or his DRN happen to be." she lies, waving her hand in the air lazily. She knows exactly where John is. But she hopes he has a plan. 

She can only hold them off for so long.

~

"You want to market me." Dorian says slowly, looking John in the eye.

John shifts uncomfortably where he stands, a few feet from the couch Dorian is sitting on, "Something like that, yeah."

Dorian is silent for a moment, his face a carefully constructed mask of no emotion before he says, "I'm not a toaster, John. You can't just advertise me and hope people buy me."

John shifts again, because  _dammit that's not what he meant and that's not what this is-_

"It's not like that, Dorian. We do it with humans all the time." he tries to explain, his voice taking on a pleading tone, he  _needs_  Dorian to agree to this, he needs to make him see that this is a valid plan and that it's not what he thinks it is, "We do it with celebrities, politicians, cops...it happens all the time, Dorian. This isn't some sort of tactic that I thought of  _just because_  you're an android. I wouldn't do that. It's just...PR, that's all. And I think this could work."

Dorian looks at him, considering what the detective has just said, and John feels a flutter of hope when he sees that Dorian believes him.

"Dorian."

The DRN looks at him, the beginnings of trust creeping into his eyes as he looks at his partner, standing there in his tank top and sweatpants, looking at him earnestly.

"I can fix it, Dorian." he says again, "Let me fix it."

Dorian considers this for a moment and looks at John before he makes his decision.

"Okay."

~

"So you cannot control your officers?"

Sandra rolls her eyes and feels her superiors bristle at her nonchalant gesture, "Human officers are supposed to think for themselves, and unless you want to replace every human officer with an MX..."

"And we're to believe you don't know where your officer is?"

"Why would I lie? If I knew where he was, I would tell you."

"And this...officer Kennex's locator chip isn't active, by any chance?" he asks, suspiciously.

"He seems to have switched it off." Sandra drawls.Which is a blatant lie, Kennex's locator chip is active and working. She just can't stand the thought of someone else handling her officers. She won't stand for it. Kennex is her responsibility. No one elses.

"And the DRN's?"

"His locator is off too."

"How convenient."

"Isn't it?" she chirps. She knows she's just being cheeky now.

But hey, she should be allowed to have just a little fun, after all.

~

"And how do we go about this, John?"

John paces, wringing his hands out as he thinks.

"Well, the news outlets are waiting for my statement. So I guess we can start with that. They're watching everything, waiting for something new to report, so what if I sent one of them an email? Or asked to do an interview?"

"And interview." Dorian repeats, like he's testing the words and how they roll off his tongue. His face goes blank again and John's stomach drops before he rushes and chokes out "No, not about...what happened. We wouldn't talk about that. But just me talking  _about_  you. And what you like and some of the things you say and things like that.  _Endearing_  people to you."

The DRN's expression softens, "Oh. Okay."

"Dorian- I wouldn't-"

"I know. I don't know why I reacted like that. Sorry." he looks up at his partner, "I trust you, John."

And that's all John needs to hear.

He can fix this.

He nods and walks over to the computer before he composes the first email. He keeps its short and sweet, asking for an interview, and he has one request. That the footage of Dorian remains unmentioned, and John gets to talk about anything he wants instead. He decides that his terms aren't too steep, and honestly, all the news stations are itching to get a word from him anyway that they'll acquiesce to his whims, just to have the first words from him.

In the last second he decides to take it a step further.

He sends it to every major news station in the city.

He can fix this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! I hit a bit of a block but I've gotten through it :) I should be updating more now.


	25. Chapter 25

About seven minutes after sending the emails, he gets nine back. And as he predicted, they're all eager to speak with him.

John isn't surprised. He can just imagine some skinny, pimply reporter hunched over their computer, nearly vibrating with glee at the prospect of interviewing the city's (and InSyndicate's) most wanted man about his android. Like these aren't people's lives but a entertaining story for the world to read or watch, chuckle at, and then put down and go about their day.

_His_ android.

That's what they've been calling Dorian, apparently. Like John _owns_ him. Like the DRN doesn't have his _own_ name.

John has been avoiding the news as much as he can, but in a tech addled city where billboards display the recent happenings and phones constantly being updated with the latest whenever they're turned on, he can't ignore too much of it. He's avoided the worst parts, the footage of his partner and the fact that they seem to insist on replaying footage from the raid, but he knows that he and Dorian are still a hot topic as of late.

He's not happy about it, but he'll be damned he doesn't use it to their advantage.

There are hundreds of news stations, but John answers the email for the most popular one first.

He needs this to be everywhere.

He sees Dorian shift on the couch out of the corner of his eye, and he agrees to a live interview tomorrow.

A part of him feels like this is too easy, but hey, maybe the universe or fate or whatever is finally giving him and Dorian a break.

~

"I don't need a babysitter, John."

The detective turns stiffly looking at the DRN behind him, turning away from the short Latino man who's standing in John's doorway.

He needed someone to stay with Dorian while he was gone, and he'd asked for Valerie who, unfortunately happened to be busy with a case. And that's why he'd opened the door to be faced with Richard, looking up at him with a blank stare, his MX behind him. 

Wonderful.

He glances at the DRN, taking in his partner's indignant stare, and his frown. 

He felt bad, he really did. Dorian could take care of himself, but sue him, John has been a bit overprotective of the DRN lately. And if he left Dorian here alone, he had no guarantee that he wouldn't bolt, or watch the wrong thing or disappear entirely. Dorian is better than when John found him in that run down pet store, that's true, but he's not out of the woods yet.

He'd only thought about getting someone to stay with him this morning as he was brushing his teeth and his traitorous mind had supplied the thought of Dorian finding his gun and blowing his circuits out while John was away. The thought had caused John to choke for about 10 minutes on his toothpaste and then leave Valerie a voice message asking if she could come over and stay with his partner while he handled some business. 

Needless to say, he'd seen her voice message reply too late, and when he opened the door, he didn't find Valerie, but Detective Richard Paul, accompanied by his MX.

His partner has been keeping to himself all day. When he'd made the call to Valerie, Dorian had been nowhere to be found at the time, and when John had went hunting for him in the apartment, he'd found the DRN in his trophy room, looking at John's childhood achievements. 

They hadn't said much and the DRN seemed...nervous. 

Not like John could blame him. Public speaking was never his forte. Public yelling, however...

"Dorian, it's not like that, okay? I just need to make sure someone is there so-"

"So I don't go off the rails. I am fine, John. I have not engaged in any worrying behavior in 14 hours-" Dorian answers evenly.

John sighs and glances at Richard in his doorway before his eyes land back on his partner, "Dorian-"

"Just think of me as...security." Richard says abruptly, cutting John off, "I'm not here to watch you or to make you uncomfortable, just here to make sure no one gets in."

John looks at Richard, and back at Dorian.

His partner takes on last look at them both before he walks into the living room, picks a book out of the bookshelf and heads into John's bedroom. John hears the whir of the charger starting up, before he looks at the man in front of him.

They stare at each other for a few seconds and it's quiet and awkward until Richard says, "How is he?"

That's not what John expected to hear. At all. But then again, Richard surprises him.

Surprised or not though, he doesn't know how to answer the question. Sometimes he thinks Dorian is okay, and then he has the vision of his partner sitting on that crumbling desk with is gun in his lap, or crying up against his door, or zoned out of his mind in the car.

He doesn't know what to say. So he tells the truth.

"I don't know." he says, and the words taste like guilt on his tongue.

Richard nods once, his face blank.

John steps aside to let him and his MX in, and as he steps outside and leans to pull the door in behind him he takes on last look at Richard and says, "If you upset him, I'll shoot your MX again."

And Richard, without missing a beat, surprises him again when he looks John in the eye and says, "And if you mess this up and make this worse for him, I'll shoot _you_ , Kennex."

And although that was a threat, and Richard is serious about it and would make good on it in a heartbeat, John walks to his car feeling like he just gained an ally. That _Dorian_ , just gained an ally.

 Or rather, he realized one was always there.

 


	26. Chapter 26

The news station looks just how he thought it would look. He's never been in one before, but he has the feeling that with his plan, he'll get far too accustomed to the look and feel of them. Enough for a lifetime, he's sure.

But then he thinks of Dorian and how this will help him and he figures it's a small price to pay. It's a sappy and sentimental thought, but its true.

He'd kept his head down as he approached the entrance, thanking his lucky stars that the press doesn't seem to know what car he drives or where he lives. The place is big, he observes as he walks in, the color scheme consisting of white and chrome, personalized ads playing as he walks past, alerting the pimply teenaged secretary as to who he is. The kid looks up at him quizzically before he gawks at the detective and buzzes him into the main building, his squeaky voice telling John to take the elevator to the left to the 10th floor.

John rolls his eyes as the secretary ogles him before his patience snaps and he gives him a sharp look, smirking when the kid whips his head back towards his desk computer in fear.

_'Small victories'_ , Kennex thinks, as he scans his hand for the elevator. The screen reads 'guest' along with his name, occupation and ID number before the elevator opens.

He steps inside and tries not to panic.

~

Richard finds himself sitting on Kennex's couch, next to his MX. He never thought he'd be in Kennex's home at all, much less under these circumstances. 

It's quiet, and awkward, and he feels like he should say something. Not to his MX, but to the DRN in the next room. He hasn't shown his face since Kennex left, and Richard is feeling something akin to mild concern. He has no idea what to do while he's here, and he didn't count on Dorian booking it to the bedroom as soon as he arrived, but now that he has he realizes that he had some intention--at least subconsciously--of talking to the DRN. At least a little bit.

He isn't sure of it's the proper decision, but Richard sighs and gets up from his place on the couch, ignoring his MX's glance as he walks slowly over to the bedroom door and knocks softly.

He hears a rustle--the sounds of pages turning, he realizes--and then silence for a few moments, before he hears a soft, "Yes?" 

He's never heard the DRN so...quiet before. He cringes and opens the door slowly, revealing Dorian sitting at the edge of what he assumes is John's bed, his book in his lap. It's a large volume, the pages frayed and open partway to the end. Richard lets the door fall open the rest of the way open but doesn't come any closer, instead leaning against the door frame, a lot like John did a few days earlier.

Dorian looks at him, his expression blank but braced for something uncomfortable. Richard sighs and looks at the DRN, before says, "You okay?"

Dorian's brows furrow before gives a tentative, "Yes."

"Well, _that's_ not true." Richard says breezily. The air shifts, slight tension replacing the silence.

Dorian tenses and sits up straighter, looking Detective Paul right in the eyes, "And what would you have me say?"

"I don't know."Richard says, shrugging, "Maybe...the truth?"

"And how do you know I'm not telling the truth?" Dorian asks after a beat.

_'Hardly any emotion.'_ Richard thinks, _'That's not right at all.'_

"Because no one is okay after something like that, Dorian. That's why." he says evenly, folding his arms and making a point to adopt a non-threatening stance.

Dorian opens his mouth to respond, before Richard cuts him off.

"I've been where you are, you know." he says quietly, looking Dorian in the eye. His tone is careful and guarded, but Dorian still starts, and looks at the detective sharply.

Dorian's mouth snaps shut and his eyes widen, his nonchalant mask slipping out of place as he regards the detective standing in front of him in shock.

"What?" 

Richard shrugs, "I've been there. Here." he emphasizes, gesturing to Dorian.

Dorian blinks, but doesn't know what to say. So Detective Paul continues.

"It feels like you're dying now and that you'll never forget it. But you'll be okay, Dorian." he shrugs, "You'll never forget. But you'll be okay. It'll take a while. But if you're willing to put the work in, you'll be able to heal. Not completely. There'll always be a scar and it'll bleed every now and again." Richard says carefully, never breaking eye contact with the DRN, "You won't be who you are because something like that...changes you. Forever. But you're not ruined and you'll be able to be someone different. Still good and valuable. Just different. And different doesn't mean bad. Or broken. It just means not the same. Which is okay. The important thing is that one day, it won't be the only thing you think about every second of every hour of every day. One day it'll just be a thing of the past. And you'll still be here. Whole. You'll be okay. You'll be whole."

Richard takes a deep breath, steadies himself, and starts to turn away to go back into the living room.

"Feel free to come on out and watch some TV until John's interview airs." he calls back to the gaping DRN, still sitting on the bed with his eyes wide.

It take a a few moments, but eventually Richard looks over and sees Dorian sitting next to him on the couch, no longer looking like he'll bolt at the drop of a hat.

~

John introduced to so many people his head is spinning. He's also confused. He's here for an _interview_ , not to know who the sound guy will be or who the lighting guy is. He has the annoyed thought that he really only needs to know the name of the reporter who's interviewing him-

Her name is Nancy. She's very pretty, clad in a red skirt suit and bouncing brown hair, skin the same shade as Dorian's and a blinding smile just for him. She introduces herself and takes his hand in a firm grip, her brown eyes glittering and John realizes-

he feels nothing at all. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zero.

It's a startling revelation, seeing as she's just his type. A woman he would have chased and tried to woo and impress.

But John just....doesn't feel anything. 

And as he settles in for the interview and gets a mic attached to him, he wonders why.

They're in a wide open space, behind a chrome desk with lights beaming down on them. John spies a teleprompter and several more, smaller camera's out and pointed at him. It takes him a second for him to realize that the crew that's not working the cameras have come down to watch the interview too, and are holding their own personal recording devices. He wonders why. There's a huge camera right there--several, actually--manned by employees of the news station. It's already going to be filmed, why bother holding your phone for the next 30 minutes?

It makes him nervous.

He's never had this much attention on him before. But now spotlights are on him and boom mics are hanging and ready to catch and hang on to his every word. Everyone is going to be watching this interview, and while he was able to shove that thought to back of his mind for as long as he could, he can't seem to do that anymore because everything is just so _in his face_ -

"Mr. Kennex?" the reporter says as she lightly taps his shoulder to get his attention. John realizes he's zoned out. _Shit._

He shakes himself out of his panicky haze and looks at the woman next to him. "Sorry." he says, guiltily. He feels even worse knowing that he's so nervous. He's doing this for Dorian. He shouldn't be nervous. This is something he has to do. His partner deserves his best.

"Not a problem." she smiles, giving him a considering look. She opens her mouth to say something, then she seems to decide against it. John looks at her quizzically as she looks away, biting her lip as he hair falls into her face. He watches as she takes deep breath and then seems to change her mind, turning to him quickly and whispering under her breath.

"The thing with first interviews is that they want you to be nervous." she says quickly, her eyes darting around like she's on the lookout for something dangerous "They want you to be nervous so that I can ask certain questions and pressure you into saying more than you want to say. That's journalism." she says quickly with a guilty look in her eyes, "Trying to get you to say what you never intended to. Trying to get you to spill so much information that the press can have a field day."

John feels his face harden, but she doesn't stop talking, quickly and under her breath, her head bowed so no one sees her lips moving, "Which is fine for celebrity scandals and all that, but for this....I thought I'd give you a heads up." she pauses before she continues, her eyes averted "Don't be nervous, and don't let me make you say something you had no intention of saying. Stick to your guns. Just think of it as a regular conversation. Don't let it go anywhere you don't want it to. Be natural. You'll do fine."

"We're on air in 50 seconds!" someone yells in the background, the surrounding lights dimming so the spotlights on John and Nancy are all the more bright. The logo of the news station lights up behind him, but somehow, John relaxes.

John nods in her general direction and gives her a grateful look as she straightens up and acts like she didn't just save John from a something that could have ruined his entire plan.

A forecast of the weather is given, and then a short traffic report, before the cameras turn to John and Nancy and countdown begins.

_"To you, Nancy, in 5...4....3..."_

~

"You ready?" Richard asks Dorian from where he's seated next to him on John's couch.

The DRN freezes, John's face coming into view on the television screen. He looks at ease. Dorian grins softly. _John._

"Not at all."

~

"2...1."

John puts on a vacant smile and sits back.

Showtime.

 


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda wanted to try the whole 'telling the story through different popular media outlets' thing.  
> The hastags just take you to the twitter homepage.  
> Also, think you guys can spot my tumblr username in here somewhere? LOL. A cookie for anyone who does!

**[[Official Transcript--CBV News--J.Kennex--Nancy G.]]**

 

_Traffic report- Cut to Main Desk._

_Cue lights._

_9:00 pm - Rep-_ Nancy G.

NANCY

_(CLEARS THROAT) Now, our next segment is something we've all been waiting for. Earlier this week, the terrorist group InSyndicate released some disturbing footage following the bombing of the 103rd precinct. They have made it clear they're looking for one man, a certain Detective John Kennex. And tonight we have the interview that the world is waiting for. His first public appearance since it all took place, (TURNS TO KENNEX) Mr. Kennex I'm very glad you could be with us here tonight._

KENNEX

_Glad to be here, Nancy. (SMILES)_

NANCY

_Now, the bombing of the 103rd Precinct. What was going through your head?_

KENNEX

_(SIGHS)Well, my main concern was getting out alive with my partner. Couldn't ask for much more than that. In the end, Dorian got us out safe and sound. A little dusty, but alive._

NANCY

_Dorian?_

KENNEX

_My partner._

NANCY

_Ah, you mean DRN-0167._

KENNEX

_His name is Dorian._

NANCY

_And..did it choose this name?_

KENNEX

_He's a he. And yep. Its suits him and he likes it. That's all that matters._

* * *

* * *

 

 **take me home**  @ichabbie223  
@destiny12 you watching the interview???

 **baby angels**  @destiny12  
@ichabbie223 I just got home! I'm watching it now

 **take me home**  @ichabbie223  
@destiny12 apparently the bot's name is dorian and he picked it all by himself! kinda cute

 **808s and disco face**  @disco-face  
@ichabbie223 @destiny12 i wonder how he decided on that name? Is it because DRN is in it?

 **emily**  @redhairemmie  
apparently he has a name [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **boldly going**  @to_the_stars  
@redhairemmie that's a good hashtag! i'm gonna use that[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 

* * *

* * *

NANCY

_So John, your partner chose his own name, he insists on being called a 'he'....does this strike you as strange, in any way?_

KENNEX

_No. Why would it? I mean, he also likes to sing along to kpop, Lionel Richie and The Beatles in the car. That's not any more strange than if you or I did those things. He's a very unique person. Aren't we all?_

NANCY

_Interesting. He sounds very easy to get along with._

KENNEX

_When he's not sassing me or making me eat strange foods, sure he is._

NANCY

_Wow, that's...interesting.(SMILING)Your partner makes you eat strange foods?_

KENNEX

_It amuses him.(LAUGHS) Once we were at a Japanese vendor and he decided I was taking too long to eat, so he ordered something in Japanese, and it turned out to be a live snail. He kinda dared me to eat it. And...I did it. (LAUGHS) He laughed for hours. I'll never hear the end of that._

NANCY

_Wow. He sounds very...real. Authentic._

KENNEX

_(SMILING) Oh trust me, he's the realest person you'll ever meet. He told me exactly what he thought about my haircut not even a week after we'd met._

NANCY

_(LAUGHS) And what did he say?_

 KENNEX

_He thought it was terrible. And he told me. Straight to my face._

NANCY

_(SMILING)He sounds like a very funny individual._

KENNEX

_Yeah, he's a joker. He's also kind. Good with people. And cats. Better than I am._

NANCY

_Is that so?_

KENNEX

_Yeah. He just....gets them. I don't. He can..connect, you know?_

* * *

* * *

**casey tillman**  @caseybaby  
A bot that likes to sing in the car? Sounds human to me! [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **eric hernel**  @easyeee  
@caseybaby he might like kpop almost as much as you do![#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **julan the jedi**  @the_force_and_i  
Dorian sounds like a lot of fun tbh. I'd hang with him. [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **emily**  @redhairemmie  
He listens to The Beatles? He has great taste. I like this guy already [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **GI GO**  @playmate34  
idk. hes a bot. i dont trust bots. plus that video was gross [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **facey spaces**  @keepmeupandaway  
@playmate34 why the hell would you even watch that. you're disgusting [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **marina danielman**  @ohnonono  
@keepmeupandaway I can't even watch it on the news. It's so awful. And it's even worse, hearing how cool he is. Bot or not. [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **meghan filler**  @geniusbabe  
i feel weird thinking about what happened to him. He seems so human...and really cool. It's awful.[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **emily**  @redhairemmie  
apparently he's also good with people. probably better than me lol[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

* * *

* * *

NANCY

_So how does your partner feel about the bombing of the precinct?_

KENNEX

_He did everything he could to get us out. Saved my captain too._

NANCY

_And the video-_

KENNEX

_He's a really good guy, and I don't like how people are talking about him like he's a thing, you know?_

NANCY

_What do you mean?_

KENNEX

_Dorian is the single most human...being I've ever met. His compassion is boundless and he's courageous as all hell. He's saved me time and time again. And plus, he made me a dating profile because he thought I needed to get laid. Can't get more human than that._

NANCY

_(LAUGHS) Wow. Really?_

KENNEX

 _(SMILES) Really. He was very insistent._  

NANCY

_What do you think makes DR-ah, Dorian, so human?_

KENNEX

_Well what makes you or I human, Nancy?_

NANCY

_I'm..not too sure, actually._

KENNEX

_(SMILING) Exactly._

NANCY

_You raise a very good point, Detective._

KENNEX

_(SMILES) I like to think it's compassion. Or kindness. Or even feelings such as anger and fear. Once he scaled a building to take out a guy who had a bomb attached to my neck. Then chewed me out for getting kidnapped in the first place. He was furious that I could be so careless. I'd scared him, really. He didn't know if he'd find me. That amount of passion can't be in anyone that isn't alive. It's impossible. And if Dorian has one thing, it's passion. For everything. Catching bad guys, music, animals, you name it. He just likes....life. In all forms._

NANCY

_(NODS THOUGHTFULLY) That's amazing....I would like to meet him one day._

KENNEX

_I think everyone should meet someone like him. Even if it's just once._

NANCY

_I am inclined to agree._

KENNEX

_(SMILES)_

NANCY

_Are you able to report on the investigation into InSyndicate and their threats against you?_

KENNEX

_Nothing I can tell the public, Nancy. But rest assured. It'll be handled. Dorian and I are looking into it._

NANCY

_Well, I feel safer already. It was a pleasure having you, Detective. I hope to meet your partner one day. He sounds absolutely wonderful._

KENNEX

 _(SHAKES HANDS)I'm sure he'd like you too. It's been a pleasure, really._  

* * *

* * *

**henry patterson**  @henry_p  
wow. he really scaled a building for him? that's really cool[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **alexander lynch**  @allibaba  
they're like a comic book duo[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **harriet munroe**  @h_munroe  
My wife is in tears. I feel for this Dorian guy. I wonder if he's okay. He seems so nice. And his partner is clearly trying to hold it together despite what happened to his partner.[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **jasper willen**  @jayjayparty  
@h_munroe do you hear how he talks about him though? he's very sweet on him!!! [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **jake allen**   **was here**  @jake_allen  
Okay that settles it. I'm so rooting for these guys. They're like superheroes![#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **Cadet 56**  @cadetblainey  
I really want an interview with this Dorian character. But he might not be up for one :( [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **aint nothing but a heartbreak**  @tellmewhyyy  
Meh. Bots aren't human. You're all delusional. [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **steve freeman has arrived**  @bloooooop  
@tellmewhyyy get off this hashtag you dick. he sounds like a nice guy. who cares what he is.[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **jack perrier**  @lumberjackone  
That John fellow really cares about him huh? Maybe in a....love way? [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **iris pillman**  @iris_pilly  
@lunberjackone i didn't want to be the one to say it but thats what it looks like isn't it??? omggg aw! [#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

 **hyeoyon**  @sunmi_221  
I like this Dorian guy. He sounds like a good soul.[#HeCallsHimselfDorian](http://www.twitter.com)

* * *

* * *

On the way home, John gets a text. He reaches over and checks the screen.

It's from Richard.

_You and Dorian are trending. Rudy says 98% positive feedback. Good job, Kennex._


	28. Chapter 28

Dorian ends up taking a seat next to Detective Paul on the couch.

The detective notes that the DRN doesn't look afraid, the underlying fear in his eyes and in his stance gone as he sits down next to him, eyes on the television with an unspoken question between them.

He knows Dorian is going to ask sooner or later.

It's common for victims to feel a faint sense of companionship and lack of fear when confronted with other victims.

Is that what he is though? A victim? Richard hasn't thought of himself like that in a really long time. He thought he moved past it, left it behind, but with what happened to Dorian-

it's dredging up old memories and feelings that he's been trying to ignore for years. That he thought he'd banished. That he'd gotten help for.

It's not the DRN's fault, not in the least, and Richard knows that, but it doesn't help the vein of anxiety that winds it's way through him at the thought that someone else knows about him. About what happened. It's like an ugly scar that opens and bleeds sometimes, and while he has hid it under a bandage all these years he doesn't know what to do now that someone has spotted the white medical tape holding it closed.

After it'd happened he'd moved and started over. Away from the state where he'd been ruined so long ago.

He still doesn't quite understand what happened. He'd pleaded with her to stop a countless amount of times. And all he'd gotten were black eyes, bloody noses and a feeling of shame, guilt , disgust and violation hanging over him wherever he went.

He still doesn't understand why she didn't stop. Why she suddenly hated him so much that she wanted to tear him apart and kill him from the inside out.

He understands why he allowed himself to be forced to marry her even _less_.

~

In the end, Richard supposes John does pretty well in the interview. He takes a look at trending topics then texts John to tell him so.

He doesn't know the full plan, but he can kind of guess what it is, and he has to say that he's a bit surprised. 

Kennex is a good cop, even though he would rather cut out his own tongue than admit it, but he didn't bank on him going so far for his partner.

Kennex doesn't like androids. Or, he _didn't_ , as far as Richard knew, but Dorian is different. He knew that as soon as the DRN walked into the precinct and smiled, looking around the bullpen. He'd said some nasty shit to the DRN back then, but he could only be so kind when his last partner was killed in the raid that Kennex had set up, miscalculated and botched.

She'd been his best friend. Suddenly she was there, and then she wasn't. And all Richard had was his job, an abusive, soon to be ex-wife, and nightmares about how his best friend had been killed while he had been nowhere around. She died alone. And they'd promised that that would never happen.

But it did. And he broke his promise. And there was nothing he could do to fix it.

So naturally, he wasn't too welcoming when Kennex came back. Sue him, he was angry. And petty.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have taken it out on Dorian though. He'd have no idea they'd end up having so much in common.

Dorian--who'd watched John's interview with a light smile on his lips and a starry look in his eyes--was now looking at the television with a certain concentration that goes into trying to portray extreme nonchalance. 

Obviously the DRN wanted to ask, Richard could tell. They sit like that for a few minutes. John's interview ending and giving way into the next segment, and Richard takes the initiative and turns the channel off of the news before they see a story about InSyndicate or the video. He turns to some variety show that he's not interested in, and feels the DRN shift on the couch next to him before he just decides to jump into the deep end all at once.

"Just ask me, Dorian." he sighs quietly, turning off the television.

Dorian looks at him, his eyes wide and his shoulders tense. Richard supposes talking about it won't be so bad. Especially with someone who understands. And he wants to help Dorian, he does, but he still feels a bit anxious. He can't help it. This is his big secret. The secret that he moved halfway across the country to keep.

Dorian looks at him closely for a few moments, before he composes himself and says, "You don't want to tell me."

Richard looks at him, and wonders how he can be so good at reading him when they hardly know each other. He figures the DRN is just good with people. The detective looks away, toward the huge window in the living room before he takes a deep breath and turns back to the DRN sitting next to him. He can feel his MX behind him, a solid barrier, and somehow he feels a bit more confident.

"It's not that. It's just not an easy subject."

"You don't have to tell me."

"I know. I know that I don't have to do anything I don't want to do." Richard says carefully, "Do you?"

Dorian gives him a considering and slightly suspicious look before he says, "What do you mean?"

"Well, do you know that you can do whatever you want?" Richard says, "That you don't have to do anything you don't want to do? You knew that before, you used to fight John on things all the time. My question is, do you know that _now_?"

Dorian looks at him, his brows furrowed, "Of course I do."

"Because that's important." Richard says, voice trailing off, "That you know that you don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Dorian nods, looking at the detective next to him with something that looks like curiosity.

"She was great at first." he starts, watching the DRN's expression, "She was everything I wanted. Funny, smart, kind, beautiful. Then she just...changed. Became a monster. And I thought I could handle it but, I-" Richard pauses and looks out the window, his gaze far away, "--couldn't. Soon I was going to work with bruises after being raped all night and not knowing where the hell it all went wrong. I thought I deserved it, that I did something wrong and that that was my punishment. That since I'm a guy I must have wanted it because what guy doesn't want sex, right?" he pauses, "I was hiding and lying to anyone who asked about the bruises or the black eyes. I couldn't tell anybody because I knew what they would say."

Dorian is quiet before he asks, "What would they say?" in a soft voice.

"That I deserved it, that I pissed her off. To stop being a girl and to be a man." Richard replies, voice even, "To shut up and just be happy that I have a woman who always wants to have sex with me. But I didn't want her. Not like that. She forced me to marry her and it went on for about 2 years after that." he smiles bitterly,"I remember having to cover the bruises with makeup on my wedding day." Richard laughs, though it's a bit too loud and has no humor in it, "It struck me how messed up it was but I couldn't seem to break out of it. By then I was a mess and it was too late. Even after I left, divorced her and moved I was still terrified that she'd find me. Still am, actually. That doesn't seem to go away."

"Is that why you asked Maya Vaughn to see whether she's still alive?" Dorian asks, remembering when Richard had the medium try to communicate with her. Back then it had just been a joke and everyone had chalked it up to Richard either being a jerk, a goofball, or both. But now that Dorian knows what the story is, the memory means so much more. And now he can only see Richard asking whether his abusive, rapist of an ex-wife is dead so maybe he can stop being so afraid all the time.

Richard laughs again, a slight chuckle, "Well, yeah. I was kind of hoping she was dead." his face darkens before he adds, "At least then she can't hurt anyone else."

Dorian is silent, his face unreadable until Richard says, "And it took a long time for me to realize it wasn't my fault."

The DRN starts and his eyes widen in surprise, "Of course it wasn't." he says, shock lacing his words.

"Well I know that _now,_ " Richard scoffs, grinning, "But...it just took a while. That's all." he pauses, then he carefully adds," What happened to you wasn't your fault either Dorian."

The DRN is silent for a few minutes as Richard's statement hangs in the air.

"I should have known it was a trap." the DRN says slowly after a few moments, "It was obvious, but I just wanted to help and catch the person responsible for destroying the precinct but I was too foolish and-"

"Dorian." Richard says, cutting him off. He expected this, the self blame that goes hand in hand with the guilt. It's a textbook response to trauma, he's learned.

"-I should have known that it would happen, what good is a police droid that gets so easily deceived?" the DRN continues, a slight hysteria creeping into his voice, "I can't be a cop if-"

" _Dorian._ " Richard says, a bit firmer.

And that's all it takes. The DRN's eyes widen in fear and he jumps away from Detective Paul, pacing the living room.

Richard doesn't move, because the scene looks and feels far too familiar to the times when he felt cornered and needed to distance himself. So he stays where he is on the couch, only turning his torso slightly so that he can look at the DRN pacing the floor of the living room anxiously. He feels his MX stir behind him.  
  
"It wasn't your fault." he says plainly. 

Dorian stops and looks at him, drowning in John's too big clothes and a suspicious look in his eye, "Stop it." he says, his voice even, the slight static underneath his words as lights run up and down his temples.

"It's not your fault."

"Stop."

"It's not your fault."

"Stop. Please."

"It's not your fault."

"Detective Paul. Stop."

"It's not your fault."

"I should have-"

"It's not your fault."

"I-"

"It's not your fault."

Dorian looks at Detective Paul, and is at a loss for words.


	29. Chapter 29

By the time John gets home, Dorian is back in his bedroom, and Detective Paul is pulling on his coat and preparing to leave. 

"Oh, you're back", He says, zipping up his coat and motioning for his MX to follow him,"I was afraid I would have to spend one more minute in your house, Kennex. I can't look at that hideous wallpaper anymore." the detective smirks and pushes past John to exit the house, his MX following closely behind.

John rolls his eyes and sighs, too tired to come up with anything more than a strained, "How's Dorian?"

Richard pauses, his face sobering as he turns back and looks at John, standing in the doorway of his home, his jacket half hanging off of him and a look of concern on his face. He spies something like hidden anger there too, simmering under the surface, like John is waiting to hear about how he's upset his partner. Richard doesn't take is personally, he's surprised to say. 

Because if John is ready to tackle Richard if he upset him, then Dorian is in good hands, and he finds that somewhat comforting. He'd never admit it though.

"He needs help, John." Richard says, his voice firm, "He needs a therapist. No offense, you're a comfort to him I suppose but-" the detective shifts and his MX looks at him with a vague quizzical expression, before Richard sighs and continues, "He thinks it's his fault. He really believes it."

John's mouth tastes sour and his heart drops.

"He thinks he deserved it because he wasn't smart or quick enough." Richard continues, "I told him it wasn't, over and over again but Kennex-" he pauses, gathering his nerve before he speaks again, "You should have seen the look on his face as he tried to convince me he deserved it. He needs help. And that doesn't mean just you and him cooped up in your house together day in and day out. It's not helping him."

John sighs and rakes a hand through his hair in frustration, a head ache building behind his eyes because _shit_ , he knows this isn't the ideal situation, and that he has no idea what he's doing but seriously, he's doing his best. He knows Dorian needs help, but how is he supposed to find a therapist that is capable and willing to help a DRN? 

Therapists are supposed to be...confidants of sorts, how is he supposed to find somebody he trusts with his partner? Someone who sees him as the equal he is? Someone who won't dismiss him as a machine?

John knows he's no good at this, but shit, he's  _trying_. And he's no where near whole and healed himself, how is he supposed to help someone else? It's not like they have anywhere else to go. They'll recognized and Dorian can hardly be around John without flinching and panicking occasionally.

_What the hell else is John supposed to do?_

He opens his mouth to speak, to say something sarcastic and biting along the lines of 'Thanks for the support because, ya know, it's not like I've had to help Dorian alone or anything like that.' before Richard cuts hims off his a withering and annoyed look.

"Shut up Kennex." He snorts, "I'll send you someone. Until then, just...try to convince him it wasn't his fault. He needs to hear that."

Richard moves to leave and John yells a quick 'Thanks for this, Paul' before he quickly closes the door.

Gratitude isn't his strong suit either.

~

John finds Dorian sitting on the couch when he turns from the door after having reactivated the security biolock. The human looks at the back of the DRN's head before he walks over slowly, trying to make as much noise as possible so as to not give the impression that he'd sneaking up on him. It occurs to him halfway that Dorian has scanners and knows he's there, but John still continues with his method until he finds himself about a foot away from Dorian on the couch.

They're silent for a moment before Dorian says, "I saw your interview."

John smiles softly, "I figured."

They're silent again for a few seconds before John nervously asks, "So...what did you think?"

Dorian looks up at him, his face unreadable, before he asks, "Did you mean it? Everything you said?"

John's heart stutters because yeah, those are the most truthful things he's ever said. He's becoming a huge sap, he knows, but there's something about Dorian that-

"Yeah, of course." he says, before he can finish that thought. He has a vague idea where it's heading. John isn't sure how he feels about it though.

Dorian gets a soft look on his face, and John fights the blush appearing on his cheeks and the self conscious urge to look away. Instead he looks Dorian directly in the eyes until he says, "I meant everything."

Dorian is silent for a few moments, just looking at John, before he says, "You mean a lot to me, John." he fidgets as he says it, a gesture that's so human, that John is still amazed by it.

His heart clenches and he's acutely aware that they're entering new, unexplored waters. New territory.

"You mean a lot to me too, Dorian." he says softly, and John knows he's not fooling anyone now, his face is red. He can feel it.

"And not many people would care this much but-" Dorian starts.

"Hey. No. Don't thank me for this." John says, "You don't have to. You'd do the same for me. You've helped me a lot. It's my turn."

Dorian nods slowly, considering John's expression.

John shuffles and turns to face Dorian on the couch, the dim light of the streetlamp outside filtering through the shades, draping the dark apartment in an orange glow, before he says, "And that's why I need to you to know it wasn't your fault."

Dorian flinches, and John feel bad for a modicum of a second until he remembers that this is something that has to be said.

Dorian has to know.

"John-"

"I mean it. It was done _to_ you but it wasn't your fault. At all." John says firmly, and before he knows it, he finds his body closer to Dorian's on the couch.

And it's a nice change when Dorian doesn't look spooked in the least.

"I-" Dorian starts again.

"Dorian." John says softly, "Believe me. Please. It wasn't your fault. You can't blame yourself for this."

John knows they're intimately close now, chests almost touching and John is breathing slightly heavier, his heart almost bursting out of his chest. He has no idea what the hell he's doing, but Dorian doesn't seem frightened or upset, and he can't seem to pull away. The DRN has that look on his face again. Wide-eyed, but not startled, and John is close enough that he can't stop the thoughts of _'God, his eyes are so blue'_ and _'his lips looks so soft'_ before they burrow in his brain and he can't stop thinking about it.

"It wasn't your fault." He says again. A few moments pass and Dorian slowly shuffles closer, and they hardly notice because they're basically in each other's lap at this point, and ever so slowly leans forward with a soft and vulnerable look that makes John's heart clench, his face inching closer to John's.

In the dim, orange tinted room, John finds that he's moving forward too, and he distantly feels his arms come up to wrap around Dorian's waist, the feel of him making his heart jump and his pulse race. He can feel his body, under the light shirt John had given him, and that makes his breathing come just a little bit heavier.

Dorian slowly kisses him on the cheek, their bodies touching through fabric, the DRN's hand on John's chest.

It's soft--and god, Dorian's lips are as soft as he'd figured they were--and slow, and as he tightens his hold around the DRN, just savoring the feel of his partner so close to him, he can feel Dorian's long eyelashes grazing against his cheekbone, feather light.

It's innocent, sweet, light and warm.

It's _perfect._

John pulls Dorian closer, his body searching for any signs of tension in his partner's body, anything that tells him that he's uncomfortable or scared, but Dorian is relaxed and nestled between John's legs, his head finding his way to the crook of John's neck and resting there like he's looking for some sort of shelter that can protect him from everything awful in the world. 

He brings Dorian in closer and just holds him. Savors the feeling of Dorian's eyelashes brushing against his neck as he blinks, his head on John's shoulder.

The innocent kiss lingering on his cheek, and his arms full of DRN, John is astounded by the trust that his partner is placing in him, allowing him to get so close and touch him after what he has been through. He trusts John's hands not to wander and for him to not see this as an invitation for something he doesn't want, and John would _never_ hurt him like that or do that to him, but the fact that Dorian trusts him, even after all this is enough to make him want to make the DRN smile for as long as he's able.

He doesn't know that that's the safest Dorian has felt in a long, long time. It's irrational, the DRN knows, but the feeling of security as John holds him close and wraps around him, Dorian tucking himself into him is one that makes Dorian not so afraid. He wants to stay there forever. Every fiber of his being is screaming _'John will protect you'_ and Dorian can't find it in himself to pull away. Instead he burrows closer, making himself small in John's arms and feeling all the more safe and protected when John tightens his hold on him.

And in that dark room, with Dorian trusting him fully and completely, John holds him and realizes-

he's completely and utterly in love with the mysterious being in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but here it is!


	30. Chapter 30

John's sudden realization that he's in love with Dorian doesn't startle him nearly as much as he thinks it probably should.

He can only equate it to a the feeling when you can plainly hear someone sneaking up on you and then the feeling of turning around to--surprise!--find someone standing behind you with a hand raised and poised to tap you on the shoulder.

A bit predictable. Not unwelcome though.

There _is_ an element of slight shock to it, and that only comes from the fact that he's surprised he's matured so much--emotionally, that is--that he can even admit it to himself without freaking out.

He'd even freaked out when he'd realized he loved Anna, all those years ago.

The discovery that he's in love with Dorian doesn't startle him, but the fact that he's just thought about Anna and doesn't feel any emotional pain like the pang in his heart or the overwhelming feeling of shame and embarrassment does.

He feels nothing when he thinks about her. 

Blank.

Although, he thinks, that might have something to do with the fact that Dorian is still curled into him and he's the only one that matters to John.

~

John wakes up a few hours later on the couch alone.

He panics for a bit, his first sharp thought being _'Dorian'--_ and sits upright so fast his head swims in protest at so much sudden movement so soon upon wakening--before he spots the DRN standing in the kitchen. The panic recedes and John's senses are finally calm enough that he can now hear the telltale sizzling of a frying pan and smell something that smells a lot like...eggs.

Dorian is _cooking_. 

For _him_ , apparently, seeing as Dorian can't (or chooses not to, John thinks, he really needs to ask about that) eat.

John rises from the couch slowly, his joints protesting the odd position he's been in, and he catches sight of a blanket falling from around his shoulders. Dorian had covered him at some point during the night. John blinks at the cloth on the floor and wonders why he feels so touched by the simple gesture.

DRN in question looks over at him at John looks down dumbly at the blanket, the sheer _domesticity_ of the scene washing over him before he smiles and looks over at his partner.

He has no idea what to say, his revelation about his feelings for Dorian rushing back and making him turn slightly pink and hot in the face, so he says a soft, "Good morning."

Safe. Simple.

_'You can do this John. It's the same as it ever was. Except you're aware you're in love with your partner and can still feel his kiss on your cheek.'_

He's aware he's internally freaking the fuck out and _j_ _esus_ , when did he become such a fucking teenager-

"Good morning, John." Dorian answers, his voice ripping John out of his thoughts, "I made you breakfast. I tried to be as quiet as I could, did I wake you?"

John smiles because the sight of Dorian standing in his kitchen holding a spatula and looking a bit nervous (but hopeful) makes some tender, lovesick part of him (a part that John, ironically, had thought died long ago) stir and make him want to hug him. Just wrap his arms around that waist and _hold_. So John in a rare fit of emotional bravery, walks over to Dorian slowly and stands in front of him, before he says, "No, you didn't wake me up." he shifts nervously, "Best sleep I've gotten in a while, actually."

He watches Dorian's face, the soft expression there making John's heart flutter in his chest before he asks, "You okay?"

Dorian blinks and manages a soft smile, "Yes." he says evenly, "Last night was...really nice. I needed that. Thank you."

The DRN keeps his voice even, though he looks away before John smiles and says, "I should be thanking you. That kiss made my night."

His partner's head snaps up and he looks at John in a sort of amused shock that makes the smile on John's face spread wider before he finds himself stepping closer to Dorian and lifting his arms to wrap him in a hug before he quickly stops himself--his hands just hovering over Dorian's slim waist and _god_ , he wants to _touch_ , but he has to ask first because if he scares his partner again he'll hate himself forever--and asks, "Is this alright?"

Dorian looks at him for a second, startled at the question, and John suddenly realizes that the DRN was leaning into him too-

"Yes." Dorian says quietly, leaning in a bit further until it catches up with John that he has Dorian's permission before finally wrapping his arms around Dorian's waist and pulling him into a hug. 

Dorian folds himself into John's embrace, his head on his shoulder and John finds himself wanting to stay like that forever. Just like this. Standing in the kitchen, holding his partner and feeling his eyelashes graze his neck yet again as he blinks, Dorian's body relaxed against his.

It makes John never want to touch anyone else ever again. Dorian is _it_ for him.

He can't believe it took him so long to realize it. But then again, John _never_ said he was good with this stuff, and in fact, he's _openly_ claimed to have the emotional insight of a wet fish. Multiple times, actually.

So sue him, he's just now realizing all this, and he clutches Dorian just a little bit tighter.

The android clutches at John's shirt and melts into him, and John can't help but be honored that Dorian trusts him. It's petty, he knows, but he can't help it.

He reminds himself to stop thinking so much and just enjoy the moment and the feel of Dorian's body pressed so close against his and the fact that he (and Dorian, he's sure) can feel the pounding of his heart in his chest in conjunction with the smooth whirring of Dorian's inner mechanics.

Dorian shifts and John hastily steps back, his arms still around Dorian's waist but moved back so he can look in his face and see whether the DRN is uncomfortable with the contact.

The DRN smiles softly and says, "I'm okay, John. I'll tell you when I'm not."

The detective lets out a breath he had no idea he was holding and relief washes over him, "Okay," he replies before looking past Dorian to the stove, "What are you making?" he asks, looking at his partner, his arms never moving from around his waist. He asks only to start conversation, he knows exactly what Dorian made.

Dorian's eyes light up before he says, "I made you an omelette." 

"Really?" John asks, smiling broadly, "Thanks man."

"Sure thing, John."

~

They disconnect eventually, though John feels like something is missing when he does and he itches to get his arms around Dorian again. But he sits down and eats his omelette, not wanting to overstep his new bounds when it comes to Dorian's body, his partner watching his face to see if he's done a good job.

The look on his partner's face when John reacts when he takes his first bite assures Dorian he did very, _very_ well.

He eats, Dorian looks shyly proud of himself, and in the end they decide to take an easy day.

God knows they deserve it.

~

John gets an email from Richard.

It's short and to the point, giving the name, number, and address of a therapist along with a short message that reads, _'I can vouch for her. I spoke to her beforehand and she's more than willing to help. Give her a call.'_ with a p.s that reads _, 'Seriously, John.'_

John closes the message and tries not to sigh. They've relocated to the couch, and in the spirit of staying true to this new...thing they've got going on, Dorian is pressed against John's side, his head in his neck, partially turned and watching the television with John's arm wrapped around him.

A few months ago John would have scoffed, grumbled and gagged at the thought of being all snuggly with anyone, but now he can't seem to rationalize how he's lived without the DRN's presence mushed into his side all this time.

 _'Fuckin sappy'_ , John thinks. Though he can't bring himself to pin any sort of negative feeling on it because sue him, he's _happy_. He knows that their entire situation isn't over, and that Dorian is still in a fragile state, that the board is still after them and InSyndicate still wants John's head on a platter. Along with the fact that John is going to hunt down, torture and kill the men that violated Dorian. And he's going to enjoy it. He can't wait for that day.

But for now, in this moment, John is _happy_. Content. Doesn't feel like driving off a bridge. It's all synonymous to him.

John Kennex. Happy. Isn't that something?

And because John Kennex is happy, it's in his nature to try and ruin it.

"Dorian, how're you feeling?" he hears himself ask slowly, and he's not asking to ruin his mood but because he really has to know. He can't be happy or content and have Dorian feeling awful right under his arm, just the thought makes him sick.

But Dorian just looks up at him, not moving from his place in John's side and replies, "I feel...comfortable."

Dorian can't bring himself to say the word 'safe', because while it's true, he doesn't want to make John uncomfortable. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Okay, tell me if that changes." John says, wrapping and arm tighter around his partner.

Richard's email can wait for now.

~

That night John tells Dorian about the therapist.

John's stomach drops a bit when the DRN's eyes dart around the apartment anxiously before he shakes his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Can you believe it's been 30 chapters?? I didn't even know this story would be this long. Or that people would even still bother to read it. Wow. And interestingly enough, as I type this lil Author's Note, this story has 2048 hits!! Lol. What a coincidence!
> 
> Here's some fluff to make up for the hell I've been putting you guys through. It'll get a bit rough again before the end though. Then a happy ending! Yay!!


	31. Chapter 31

Dorian's automatic and firm rejection of therapy doesn't surprise John in the least.

That doesn't make it any easier, though.

What's the hardest of all though, is the that John can see the look of underlying fear on Dorian's face, whisking the feelings of content away and burying them under terror. He can't help but have the sinking feeling that they've taken a few steps back.

Shit.

Dorian has moved away, and John's side feels cold, devoid of a body pressed up against it, but he tries to ignore it and focuses on the DRN on the other side of the couch, looking ahead and trying not to move a muscle.

John wants to apologize and make the DRN comfortable again, he wants to say _'forget about it man, it's fine.'_ and move on, tell Dorian that they don't have to talk about it or that he doesn't have to go and that it's all peachy and a-ok if he completely forgets John brought it up.

But he can't.

Not just because he remembers Richard's words, but because he knows that this is what's best. And hell, he doesn't like the fact that Dorian would have to spend time with someone else and talk about what happened even though he can barely say anything to John, but he can get over that if he can be comforted by the knowledge that Dorian is getting help. _Getting better_. _Healing_. He remembers how the DRN was in the car after he talked him down and off the the proverbial ledge in the pet store, and the disastrous breakdown that occurred after.

 _'He isn't well.'_ John thinks, miserably, looking at the DRN, _'He needs professional help, Kennex. Kisses on the cheek and cuddling with you isn't going to heal him. You're not a cure-all.'_

And it's honestly a bit prideful of John to think that at all, but he decides not to think too hard about it.

Dorian needs someone to talk to that isn't John. And a possessive, overprotective and territorial part of John absolutely _hates_ that. Hates the very _idea_ , but he knows that that's what's best. He can't deny it. Even after the raid, and even though he was as stubborn and cold-blooded mean as he could be, therapy, and talking to someone to get out of his own head for a bit helped quite a lot. It's taken him a while to admit it, but it has.

It strikes him that this scene is the complete and utter antithesis of the one from the night before. They're in the same place, on the couch, but while the air yesterday had been full of tentative and hesitant hope and a light excitement and nervousness at new feelings discovered, tonight it's just tense and filled the brim with worry and bottled anguish. The cloud of the things they don't want to discuss hangs over them like something foul and grotesque.

But John made a promise to Dorian that he would fix this and this is a part of it.

"Dorian." John starts, "I really think it could help."

"I'm fine." Dorian says, voice soft but firm.

"No, you're not." John replies, "You're better than you were. But not...fine."

Dorian looks at him, and John expects to see something like thinly veiled anger or annoyance, even indignation.

But Dorian looks scared. And hell, John is scared too, but he feels like a bit of a monster, putting that look on Dorian's face. But he has to do this. 

Because Richard is right, he can't help Dorian in the way that he needs it.

"You've...improved, Dorian. You have." John says, trying to reassure his partner that he's been doing better, "But-you need help I can't give you and-"

"-Are you ditching me again?" Dorian asks suddenly, his voice frantic as it cuts through the air and his posture rigid.

John's mind blanks and it's a few moments of Dorian looking at him in muted fear that he processes the DRN's question. And even then, he can only manage a startled, "What?"

"Are you ditching me again?" Dorian asks, and John has the small and unpleasant feeling that it takes him just a moment to place.

It's a small thing, but he notices it.

Before all this happened, had he said 'What?' and asked Dorian to repeat the question, the DRN would have sighed and repeated it, albeit with different wording and a bit more of an attitude (as humans do when they are asked to repeat themselves), but this time-

Dorian had just repeated the same question, with he same tone, with the same dead eyed, terrified stare and if John wasn't sure about him needing therapy before, he's certainly sure now.

Extremely sure.

Dorian is losing bits of himself, and that is truly terrifying. And he can't let it happen. He refuses to let it happen.

But he shakes himself out of his thoughts and looks back at Dorian, the android's expression growing more and more subtlety panicked as time goes on and John's silence stretches on longer.

"No, no, of course not." John says, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice, "I told you. I'll never do that again. It's just that-" John sighs, "I don't know how to help you, and you need someone who knows what to do and how to make you feel better."

"And get over it." Dorian adds icily, and John knows he's egging him on, trying to start a spat.

He won't give in to it. Dorian doesn't want to have this conversation and he understands that but he can't be distracted.

"No. I didn't say that. It's not about getting over it." John says smoothly, evading Dorian's bait, "It's about being healthy."

 "Healthy."

"And safe." John adds.

"And what makes you think this therapist is safe?" Dorian asks, "They could be horrible."

"Richard vouched for them." John says quickly.

"Richard?" Dorian asks. sitting up a bit more and looking at John, his brows furrowed.

"Uh-yeah." John asks, a question in his eyes, "Why?"

"Is it the same one he went to?"

"I-I'm not sure." John asks, and the he follows with a confused, "Why would Richard have needed therapy?"

"No reason." Dorian says quickly, his body slumping a bit in the cushions, "But-"

The DRN is silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts, before he says, "I don't want to talk about it. Ever, John."

John frowns, "I know. I know you don't."

Dorian shifts and fidgets for a few seconds, "It isn't enough that I have to work not to pull up the file, the thermal readings and recordings but now I have to talk about it?" Dorian asks, sounding defeated, "I can't, John." he confesses, looking ashamed, "And I don't think the outside world is the ideal place for me to be. I could malfunction or-"

"Dorian." John says, interrupting the DRN's panicked ramblings, "You won't malfunction, I promise." he adds, and he's grateful when Dorian doesn't ask how he knows that because John has no idea how really, he just does.

"I still don't want to talk about it." Dorian insists, "I feel disgusting enough without reliving it and having to inform a therapist about how it made me _feel_ , and irrelevant things of that nature."

The bitterness in his tone only makes John more sure.

"You aren't disgusting, Dorian." John says firmly, because he needs Dorian to _understand_ , "Those men are disgusting. Not you."

 _'And I'm going to murder each and every one of them. No morality, no badge or law or court case or trial. Just plain, old fashion revenge.'_ John thinks darkly before he looks at Dorian and his mood shifts a bit, "They're the disgusting ones."

John has a few other choice words for them (mostly obscenities and vulgar descriptions of how he'll remove their limbs) seeing as he's made up his mind that their lives will end and it'll be the brutal thing he's ever done. But he omits that information, Dorian doesn't need to hear that, certainly not now, and he looks upset enough as it is. John looks at Dorian. 

He fidgets on the couch before he blurts out, "It's them. Not you. You're-" he takes a breath, and waits a moment before he breathes out a reverent, "You're perfect."

Dorian's head snaps up and he looks at him, his eyes wide as John quickly continues, his cheeks slightly red, "And if it doesn't work, we can forget about it, but please, Dorian, please try?"

Dorian looks at him, still shocked by John's compliment and they sit in silence for a few moments before Dorian speaks.

"Why, John?" Dorian says, "I doubt me sitting in a chair and talking about it would help in the slightest-"

"It's not just that." John says, "It's the opportunity to talk about what happened and how you feel with someone who doesn't know you and won't judge you."

Dorian visibly flinches.

"I know that's why you won't talk to me." John says softly, after a few moments, "Because you think I'll view you different or look at you funny, or something. I wouldn't but i know that's hard for you to see right now and it's fine. It's just that...this can give you somewhere to dump your feelings and get some advice from someone who you don't think will treat you any differently. Someone who is detached enough to view the whole situation and give you a direction and goals to work towards so you can start feeling like yourself again."

Dorian is silent, looking down and at his lap. The moments slink by in silence, and eventually John says, "Will you think about it?"

Dorian looks up, his blue eyes a bit darker in the dim room, the glow of the orange streetlight painting the scene just as it was the night before, and the DRN manages a shaky, "Okay. I'll go."

This time, it's John that presses forward gently and kisses the DRN on the cheek.


	32. Chapter 32

John didn't consider how difficult it would be to  _get_  Dorian to therapy.

That morning he'd woken up on the couch, the DRN charging in the bedroom and before he even opened his eyes he'd realized he would probably need to hire a car.

No matter how popular John is currently, Dorian is  _more_  popular, and the last thing he wants is the media getting wind of his partner being out and about.

Then John would definitely end up killing somebody. Probably someone with a camera and microphone thrust into Dorian's face.

So he opens his eyes, groans, and sits up, the blanket falling from his torso and the pillow landing on the floor with a soft ' _plop'_. His head aches slightly and he makes a mental note to take some painkillers before he truly starts his day. He needs to be functional. For Dorian.

He catches sights of some stirring in the bedroom and concludes that Dorian is up and about, before he hauls himself into the shiny silver wheelchair by the couch and wheels himself over to the charging pod for his leg.

It strikes him that he really hasn't paid it any mind. Usually he's always thinking about it, the fact that a part of him is missing and has to be replaced with something inorganic, beeping and foreign. But these days he hasn't even noticed. He's just put it up to charge and put it on. No second thoughts. No small, 3-minute existential crisis when he sets his sights on it every morning.

He attaches his leg with a  _'click'_ , and wonders if this is progress.

~

Hiring the car had been easy enough. He'd given a fake name, and had some sunglasses so that the driver wouldn't notice them. The problem was Dorian's panic and terror shown plainly on his face when John peeked into the bedroom to inform him that the cab would be there in 20 minutes.

The DRN is sitting at the foot of the bed, his temple alight in blue and his face a mask of sheer panic. John walks in further and says his partner's name, and jumps back a bit when Dorian jumps nearly ten feet in the air in shock as if he'd just noticed John's presence.

"Jesus! Dorian, you okay?" John says, "You looked like you were-"

"I can't go, John." Dorian says quickly, standing up and facing the human, his panic and discomfort obvious in his expression, "I can't. It's safe here and  _you're_  here and-"

"Whoa, Dorian-" John says, cutting him off and trying to calm him down, "I'm going with you. You didn't think I was sending you alone, did you?"

The look on Dorian's face clearly says  _yes_.

"Dorian," John starts, and he tries to avoid feeling slightly insulted, "I wouldn't do that. I'm going with you. It's fine. I'll be right there."

Dorian looks at him for a while, and he calms down a bit, John can tell, seeing as his neural net has stopped and his face has relaxed. Dorian nods and mutters a quick, "I apologize."

John rolls his eyes, though there isn't any true annoyance in it, "Stop apologizing. You did nothing wrong."

Dorian nods again, his shoulders relaxing and his eyes on the ground.

They stand there for a few seconds until John remembers that a car is coming for them soon, and they'd ought to get dressed before they end up being late. It also only takes a split second to occur to him that Dorian only has the clothes he came in, and he makes a snap decision before he walks over to his closet, takes out a gray cable-knit sweater (just because Dorian can't feel the cold the same way he does doesn't mean that he should be running around in thin clothing, John thinks to himself) and some black jeans, and lays them on the bed. Dorian watches him quietly and looks at John quizzically when John steps back and says, "I think these should fit you. I'm taller than you so it might be a bit big-"

"Thank you." Dorian says quietly, looking at the clothes, but not moving any closer toward it. John smiles, more for Dorian's comfort than his own, and moves to the closet, picking out something for himself. He looks behind him as he picks through his clothing and says, "We'll get you more clothes in your size soon."

Dorian nods and John catches the slight movement out the corner of his eye and turns around, his clothes in his arms before he flashes the DRN another small smile and heads out of the room and into the bathroom.

Dorian can tell John is freaking out just as much as he is. John knows he can because, unlike John, Dorian is good at reading people. Hell, he's _great_ at it. So the detective tries to keep his mouth shut, tries to avoid scaring the DRN further or saying the wrong thing and quickly locks himself in the bathroom.

The door closes behind him, and he can hear the DRN moving around the room, and he sighs before sitting down on the edge of the tub.

What if this doesn't work? What if the therapist wasn't willing to treat a DRN? What if the therapist was condescending or dismissive?

John trusts Richard, he does--even though he'd never say as much--but what if he's just..wrong about this? What if Dorian gets even more hurt? 

John leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbing at his face before deciding that he needs to stop being so emotional. If the therapist turned out to be a prick, John would punch him (is the therapist a man or a woman? John is freaking out so much he can't remember), take Dorian and move on. He won't let anyone hurt his partner. Never again. But this is something that they _need_ to try.

Dorian _needs_ this. He needs the help. Desperately.

And that thought is enough to motivate John to get up and get dressed.

~

He exits the bathroom dressed and walks into the living room and is faced with the sight of Dorian in his clothes.

The sweater is a bit big on him (though the jeans fit better) but God, he looks  _good_. The gray contrasts beautifully with his skin and eyes and John can see that it's flattering even from _here_. The DRN is looking at the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the rows of books in front of him, but John is frozen in place by the door.

He feels something stirring in his gut at the sight of Dorian in his clothing. It takes him awhile to place it, but it eventually is clear to him that it's  _arousal_.

Primal and raw. There's something animalistic in the way that he enjoys the sight of the DRN wearing his clothes. But even then, it's not any kind of arousal that he's ever felt before. The feeling doesn't make its home in his groin but in his _chest_ , something burning hot and protective blooming there.

He has no idea what to call it other than love.

Because that's what it is, isn't it? Love? Isn't this how it's supposed to feel?

He thinks so.

John never claimed to be any good at things like this, so he swallows the emotion down and says, "You ready?"

His partner looks up, his face blank before he gives a halfhearted nod and walks past John and out the door. His shoulders are stiff and he looks a bit tense, but John isn't in his most relaxed state either, so he just gives the DRN a small smile and gently puts the sunglasses on him, his fingers grazing Dorian's temples and neural net lights, which makes the area light up as the DRN watches his face--and a part of him stirs in discomfort at the notion of covering those blue eyes, but something feels so soft and intimate about Dorian letting him place the glasses on his face and _wow John is getting_   _sappy as hell-_ -before placing his over his own eyes, taking his partner's hand in a gentle but firm grip, and leading him to the car. 

He aware that, as they get into the cab, they look like an ordinary couple. 

And that is what they are, right? A couple? Not ordinary, not at all, and that's fine, but they are a couple, aren't they?

Right?

Two men holding hands isn't the shock it once was, but it strikes John that this is quite a milestone. He's holding Dorian's hand. He's cementing them together in the minds of everyone they see.

John's heart stutters at the thought because wow, he wants this. He _wants_ to hold Dorian's hand and hug him and kiss him. The thought makes him flush and he's embarrassed at the fact that he's acting like a lovesick teenager but it's _true._ He wants all of that. He wants _Dorian_.

John isn't used to wanting things. Ever since the raid, the explosion, the blood...he hasn't  _wanted_  anything. There hasn't been anything that made his heart ache or heat fill his chest or face. He's been the walking dead since he woke up. Depression took over and made him a zombie.

 

But now...he _feels_ more vividly.

He's present.

And God, he isn't  _cured_ , nothing works like that, but he's  _better_. And he notices it.

And as he sees Dorian's small, happy smile out if the corner of his eye he decides it's a good feeling, to be better.

The driver--a kid in his 20's, John guesses by the looks of his youthful face and bright eyes--looks back at them, smiles, and asks where they'd like to go. John shakes himself out of his sudden and love-addled epiphany and gives the address before realizing his thumb has been rubbing Dorian's hand. A steady, soft and subconscious reassurance John has been providing Dorian with to keep him calm. A simple way of saying  _'it'll be fine.'_  and ' _I'm with you'_.

He notices and doesn't stop, but he flushes a bit. 

Dorian gives him another small smile.

~

The therapist's office is in a large, arrow shaped building along the edge of The Wall. The interior is made up chrome and steels and it has the air of being a bit too...clinical, for John's tastes, but Dorian doesn't seem bothered, and this _is_ for him, so John tries to give the place a benefit of a doubt.

He trusts Richard, he's just not too sure about this place yet. It looks...cold. Too cold for anyone to heal in. For anyone to get _better_ in.

After a quick elevator ride to the 5 floor and a few double doors, John has to change his mind because it now looks _completely_ different.

What was chrome and steel in the lobby has been replaced with warm reds and oranges, mostly on the walls, and soothing navy blue couches. The space is small and homely, and reminds John faintly of autumn. 

The entire vibe of the building has changed.

John looks around, taking in the room that looks like it's straight from a grandmother's sewing area from the early 2000s and takes Dorian's hand as the bot looks around, his face blank but intrigued.

John can see he isn't afraid yet, but John's still on edge, his body coiled tight like a spring, ready to bolt with his partner should anything end up being a threat to them.

He's distracted when he hears a door opening.

John will admit, he has an idea of how a therapist should look. Or rather, how he _thinks_ they all look. He isn't fond of them, and he's had more than a few negative experiences with them, especially after the raid, so it's not odd to him (or anyone else) that he doesn't think too highly of therapists, psychiatrists, doctors etc. Of  _any_  kind.

In his mind (and in his experience) therapists tend to dress in the drab, lifeless grey that John despises, their suits (or skirt suits) unnaturally tidy and pressed, shoes suspiciously shiny and hair infuriatingly neat. A cold and detached--even vaguely pitying--look in their eye usually tops it off, like they are bored with people's struggles or couldn't care less, their faces blank and their eyes calculating.

Therapists and MXs. Two of a kind in John's mind. 

Lacking emotion and empathy when it's needed. When it matters the most, whether you're rescuing a victim or listening to someone confide in you about their troubles.

But the small, gray-haired, Latina woman that walks out of the door is not what he expects.

Not at  _all_.

He feels his eyes widen minutely as she walks over to them, and John relaxes the slightest bit. He can't help it. She's an elderly woman with kind, brown eyes and a smile, her gray hair in curls around her round face adorned with wrinkles and age spots. She's wearing a navy cardigan, a bit too big for her portly frame but it suits her, John thinks, and she makes her way across the room, smiling at them.

She looks like a  _grandmother._

He can see Dorian tilt head head in a silent question out of the corner of his eye,(and can imagine the look on his face, the way his eyes are glinting with a silent question and God, John really _is_ whipped isn't he?) but he just squeezes his partner's hand. A nonverbal reminder that John is right there next to him.

The small, older woman makes their way over to them and when she does (John realizes they've just been dumbly standing in the center of the room and not saying anything and just _staring_ , and realizes they probably look like complete morons.) she only comes up to about John's chest. He snaps out of the shock long enough to hear her say, "Hello, you must be Dorian and John."

Her voice is smooth with a heavy British accent. 

Dorian shifts next to him before he looks down at her and says, "Yes, we are. Very nice to meet you."

The woman smiles wide and claps her hand together, her eyes glittering, "Ah, aren't _you_ polite?" she says to Dorian happily before she looks at John, "And you, young man?"

It takes a second for him to realize that he's just been  _staring_  at her. John mentally scolds himself for being rude ( _'Fucking focus, Kennex!'_ )' before he stutters out, "I'm sorry Doctor, I just-"

"Not what you expected, hm?" she says smartly, arching and eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips, "Well I'm glad I still have the element of surprise."

Dorian smiles and John's face colors just the slightest bit.

She smiles at John in amusement at his embarrassment before she turns her sights to Dorian, "And none of this 'Doctor' business," she says easily, "you may call me Valentina. And _you're_ quite a bright-eyed cutie aren't you?"

Dorian's eyes widen slightly before he smiles brightly and quietly says, "Thank you very much."

"And you too." she says, nudging John softly in the side.

"T-thank you." John says, a smile breaking out over his face. And John can tell she speaks to everyone younger than he as if they were her children.

She's endearing, he thinks.

He can tell Dorian likes her already. He does too, he finds.

"Well, no use standing out here," she states, "Come along, Dorian. Let's have a chat, dear boy." She pats Dorian on the arm and John looks over at his partner to find that the DRN is relaxed and looking at the woman in wonder as she turns and walks away, expecting Dorian to follow.

Dorian squeezes John's hand once more and moves to take a step-

but not before turning and pressing a small kiss to John's cheek.

By the time John recovers from the small but significant act of affection, Dorian is halfway into a room that John can see is decorated much like the waiting room and Valentina is looking back at him with a tender look and a smile. It occurs to him that she probably saw them holding hands, and Dorian's kiss, and he can tell he's right in that assumption when she says,

"You can wait out here, dear. Your love will be out in an hour."

The door closes and John sits down on one of the couches, Dorian's kiss lingering on his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. This chapter gave me some trouble. I can't in good conscious publish a chapter when I feel it's mediocre, so it took a while. Apologies!


	33. Chapter 33

John would be lying (from the pits of his very _soul_ ) if he said he didn't spend that entire hour worrying.

The calm and warm colors of the room (and the feeling of sitting on the coziest couch in existence) doesn't quell his fears.

Not one bit.

Was Dorian okay? What were they talking about? If something went wrong, would Dorian come get him? Would his partner ( _'Your love' Valentina had called him, and god, he is, isn't he?_ ) be okay when he walked back out that door?

John's worry is only mildly tampered when he remembers that Dorian wasn't really alright _going in_.

John sits back in his chair and silently prays to whoever is listening that they're granted a _goddamn break_ , _(because seriously, it's been a whirlwind of nonstop shit since the precinct bombing)_ and that this helps. And that John doesn't have to yell at an old woman should she end up hurting his partner.

Dorian deserves to feel better, John says, as he lays his head back on the couch, a headache settling in between his eyes.

He looks at his watch.

_40 minutes to go._

The kiss still lingers on his cheek.

~

John falls asleep.

When he feels something softly poking his shoulder, he doesn't remember what he was dreaming about, but what he _does_ remember--as he blinks his eyes clear of his sleepy fog--was that a tiny giraffe was involved somehow.

And then suddenly he's looking up into Dorian's face, a fond smile playing at the edges of his mouth and his eyes warm. Valentina stands a little ways behind him, laughing lightly at the scene, Dorian poking John's shoulder while the human dozes and blinks groggily.

He'd be amused too, he guesses.

"How was it?" he grumbles softly, looking up at Dorian before he stands. _If she hurt him or tried anything-_

"It was fun." Dorian replies, looking John right in the eye, his smile wide, "We played a game."

_Fun?_

_A game?_

_In therapy?_

John's confusion replaces his worry, because Dorian looks _happy_ _and unharmed_ , but the detective still doesn't quite understand-

"Mr. Kennex," Valentina says, with a knowing smile, "Can I talk to you in my office, very quickly?"

John nods dumbly, before he hesitates--looking at Dorian, unsure how he feels about leaving his partner in the waiting room by himself, even for a few seconds--until the bot catches his eye and smiles, "I'll be fine, John."

John opens his mouth to protest, until he hears Valentina say, "He's a big boy, and you'll be back in a moment." before turning and walking towards the open door she and Dorian just came out of. John glances back one more time, finding Dorian preoccupying himself with the shelf of books by the couch, before he follows the woman into the room.

It's decorated along the same vein as the waiting room, orange walls with navy blue, plush chairs.

He spots a low table, the kind that intend for you to sit on the floor and on the surface there is a deck of cards spread out, like someone left them there.

It occurs to him that that must have been the game they were playing.

"You don't trust me." Valentina says matter-of-factly as she moves to lean on her desk, a large wooden piece of furniture.

John whips his head around to look at her, slightly shocked at the blunt statement.

"I could see it. When I took Dorian in for his session. You're suspicious." she says lightly, looking John in the eye.

He looks at her, and settles his face in a mask of indifference, "I don't trust a _lot_ of people. Don't take it personally." he drawls.

"No," The Doctor says, "This is different than just ordinary disdain. You're _protective._ Of Dorian."

"Of course I am." he snaps quickly. And why shouldn't he be? Why does everyone think he doesn't care about his partner? What the hell?

" _Fiercely_ so." she says, unfazed by his rudeness.

"Well he's been hurt pretty bad, so.." John says, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"So I've heard." she says, her voice suddenly soft, "He's a sweet boy. And I'll do everything in my power to help him."

John shifts where he stands, feeling slightly guilty for his attitude toward her. Dorian is fine, and seemed rather bright upon exiting his first session, and she seems genuine in her fondness for Dorian already, so John straightens up and immediately says, "Sorry. I just wasn't sure what to think when we got here."

"Understandable." she says without missing a beat, "Do you know why I wanted to speak with you, John?"

He hadn't thought of that. "No." he answers, taking his hands out of his pockets.

"Because you came with him." she says, "Do you know that most people come to therapy alone?"

John shakes his head, "That sounds...sad." he says, not sure what to make of the topic change.

"Very few people have someone that is willing to sit in a quiet room for an hour just to make sure their special 'someone' is alright. Very, very few." she explains, eyeing John curiously, "But here you are. Waiting for Dorian. Like it's nothing."

John is silent, processing what she's said before she speaks again, "You care." she tilts her head slightly, like John is an especially interesting specimen under her microscope, "You care deeply for him. You wear it plainly. And it's as obviously visible as that coat on your back. That means a lot. Especially with what that boy has gone through."

And at that, something inside John stops...and turns to jello.

Because finally he's doing something _right_.

He realizes--in that split second-- that half of his anxiety was from the endless wondering if he was even doing right by Dorian _at all_ , and finally, _finally_ , there is someone--a health professional, no less, judging by the certificates and plaques on her wall-- that is telling him he _isn't_ hurting his partner or fucking up.

Because John is _so good at fucking up._

But he _isn't_ this time.

He _isn't_ fucking it up.

And in that office, he closes his eyes briefly and exhales.

_Thank god. Or, ya know, whoever is up there._

"We didn't talk about anything distressing today." she continues, not saying anything about John's display of emotion (he finds himself quietly grateful for it)"Just getting to know each other. It's important for my patients to feel comfortable. So we played a short, mental association game and I introduced myself. He asks quite a few questions, your Dorian."

John tries and fails to fight a small smile, "Yeah. He does."

"I do not disclose my patients sessions, but in this case, I'm making an exception." she says firmly.

"And why's that?"

"Because Dorian asked me to. He told me you'd worry. I offered to talk to you and hopefully give you peace of mind, although it was his idea."

"He really shouldn't be worried about me. But thank you." John says, after a moment.

"He's very, very fond of you." she smiles, "You two are very cute."

She sounds a lot like a doting mother. John feels his face color, "Uh, thanks."

~

She walks him out and he meets up with Dorian in the waiting room, the android beaming as they walk out of the office.

They say their goodbyes, and John tries not to look too surprised when Dorian moves and gives the small woman a quick hug.

She returns it happily smiling and chirps, "See you soon, dear." before giving Dorian's arm a motherly pat and sending them off with a flourish and a firm, "Get home safe you two."

In the elevator, Dorian takes John's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for how late this is! Life got in the way :(


	34. Chapter 34

The ride home is a quiet one, but the fact that Dorian hasn't let go of his hand means that despite the silence, John has a lot to think about anyway. 

Like how soft Dorian's hand is, or how the synthetic flesh feels just like his, cool and lifelike.

John doesn't let go.

~

And so it goes.

Dorian goes to therapy, John waits in the room with the warm colors, and Valentina gives the DRN a hug every time he leaves, Dorian returning it and grabbing John's hand before they make their exit.

It's a routine.

John finds himself only mildly worried that they haven't heard anything from InSyndicate, but he counts his blessings. He can only deal with so much right now. He needs to keep things stable, for Dorian. 

And having a crime organization kick down is door and kill him where he stands wouldn't help with that, he's sure.

It also seems to help that he and Dorian are currently keeping a low profile. Johns tries to stay away from the news, but he catches glimpses of headlines on his phone or on holoboards on the way to Dorian's therapy that inform him that the news stations--and the media in general-- are very curious as to where they are.

Plus, it's hard to ignore a huge holoboard with his and Dorian's face on it with the headline, 'COP AND DRN STILL MISSING'.

He's sure the police board still want a word with him for skipping his press conference (and he can't find it in himself to be sorry about that), so basically, they're hiding from everyone.

According to the city, John and Dorian have somewhat fallen off the face of the earth.

Good.

They need to heal. Collect themselves. Dorian needs _quiet_ , not flashbulbs going off in his face or the constant threat of death by gunfire.

(He has no idea why he suddenly has insight on what best for _anyone's_ emotional state--especially Dorian's, seeing as the android is better at feelings and tenderness than he is-- but he feels like he kind of knows which direction to go in. He's proud of himself, really.)

John still has to figure out what to do. What their plan is.

He is under no delusions. The city is in pure, sheer terror at the fact that InSyndicate has shown themselves once again, that they've blown up a central precinct and turned the city on it's head and off it's axis.

Everyone is afraid. And he's sure his new found celebrity and subsequent disappearance aren't helping matters.

He thanks Sandra--wherever she is, and whatever she's doing-- for not releasing his home address, even to the board. He's sure they're pressuring her to do so, but clearly she's holding them off because the most activity the front of his house has seen in a while is that squirrel that fell of the the roof into the front bush a few days ago. 

Dorian had smiled softly in amusement.

The days at home are quiet, Dorian reading in John's room or tucked into John's side as the detective watches TV and Dorian silently saps as much comfort as he can from John's form beside him. John orders his groceries now--has them delivered to the house-- not willing to risk being seen next to the dry noodles in the grocery store, and they pretty much only leave for therapy. When they do, they wear shades, and never use John's car--in case someone recognizes it or tracks it-- and he's sure they just look like any other gay couple walking around.

It's oddly domestic, but John can't help thinking that there's another breakdown on the horizon soon. Some unforeseen shit that's gonna hit the fan and ruin this quiet domesticity they have going on. He knows the deal. When things get too quiet and content in his life, something is about to explode. 

God help anyone who is caught in the blast.

Dorian doesn't talk about therapy, and John tries not to ask. It's none of his business, but John can tell when they start talking about the serious stuff because after session number 6, Dorian stops coming out with that bright look in his eyes. 

He looks haunted again.

John's first instinct--standing in the waiting room with a depressed looking android standing in front of him--is to turn and yell at Valentina, because he sent a hesitantly hopeful android in, and he got a saddened one back and that is _not_ what is supposed to _happen_.

He stops when he feels Dorian take his hand and mutter a quiet, "Please don't, John."

The detective stops, and he can feel the expression on his face (eyes blazing, brows furrowed, mouth opened and prepared to yell) but then he hears Dorian softly say, "It's not her fault, we were going to have to start talking about it eventually, I just-"

He doesn't finish the sentence, his blue eyes instead turning to look down at their intertwined hands, "Can we just go? Please?" the android asks.

John sighs and squeezes Dorian's hand, casting a glance at the therapist looking at them both serenely before looking at his partner, "Sure."

They turn to leave, and though Dorian waves a quiet but fond 'Goodbye' at Valentina, John refuses to acknowledge her.

He knows he's being childish, and that she didn't hurt Dorian, but he can't help but feel irrationally angry with the woman. It's completely unreasonable, she's supposed to be helping Dorian work though what happened to him, and that implies that it would call for some uncomfortable and painful conversation, but he doesn't like the look in Dorian's eyes.

It's like the abandoned pet shop all over again.

When they step in the cab and John catches Dorian looking out the window--his face blank--John can't help thinking that they've taken a few steps back.

Dorian is still holding his hand.

~

Dorian is quiet for most of that night. He doesn't burrow into John's side, and though he sits on the couch with him and stares blankly ahead at the television, John feels like Dorian is a million miles away.

The silence is thick and oppressive in the room, and while they usually don't use many words these days, the silence has never been deafening. It's been comfortable and they never even paid much attention to it.

Now however, John feels like he's choking on it.

Dorian shifts on the couch suddenly, the lights on his temples racing and John catches sight of the android's hand curling and pulling at the pajama pants that John gave him, and it hits him.

He knows exactly what Dorian has been doing this entire time, and the realization makes him want to vomit. Instead he swallows down the fear, rage and shock and disappointment.

_The footage. He's rewatching the footage._

_Of the warehouse._

Two steps forward, four steps back.

_Jesus fucking Christ._

"Turn it off." John says, and he's surprised but how steady and calm his voice sounds. 

Dorian ignores him--his eyes widening and casting a blank look forward and clutching at his leg tighter--and John is sure he's leaving little crescent marks on his thighs from his nails-

"Dorian," he says louder, firmer, "turn it off."

Dorian squeezes his eyes shut--trying to block him out, John figures--and he can hear the stuttered breathing coming from his partner's lips.

It's the look of someone trying to bite down and stave off hysterical crying before it starts. 

John moves, and suddenly he's kneeling next to Dorian, taking his hand loosening his grip on his leg. The room is dim, just the television and one light casting a blue glow around the room, but from the angle on the ground John can see Dorian's face, twisted in terror and muted hysteria.

"Dorian," John pleads, because _he shouldn't be doing this to himself,_ "Dorian, please _stop._ For me? Stop? Please?"

That gets through, and as Dorian's cheeks stop lighting up and his eyes open, John tries not to think too hard about how Dorian would stop for _him,_ but not for himself.

They look at each other, John kneeling on the floor and Dorian curled up on the couch, his eyes still wide and blank before he softly says, "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry for." John says sadly.

They sit there, and John keeps hold of Dorian's hand until the DRN leans forward and John--opening his arms for him--welcomes the DRN as he falls into the human's arms. Dorian hides his face in John's neck, and John holds him tight.

They sit on the ground--Dorian hiding away in John's arms--for hours.

~

"How is he?" Richard asks over the line.

John is in the waiting room, slumped on the blue couch. Dorian just went in with Valentina--a little worse for wear--and John feels a bit dragged through the mud himself.

Dorian hasn't recovered from that night, and John hasn't either. Though it occurred to him that Dorian even letting him touch him after reliving what happened to him was progress in and of itself, he remembers that Dorian was reluctant to let go of his hand when they approached Valentina's office today.

He's not sure what that means.

"I don't know." he answers truthfully.

He's not sure what made him call Richard, or why the man took his call with no question of complaint, but John is grateful.

"He's going to feel worse before he feels better, John. It's a process, and sometimes it's painful." the other man says.

"Sure."

"Valentina is good at what she does, John. Trust me. I know."

John is silent, and has no idea what to say. He wants to ask why Richard needed Valentina in the first place, but he figures it's personal. He has no idea where he truly stands with Richard, after all.

The man is an ally, but are they friends? He doesn't think so.

Could they be?

"Your interview is still making waves, you know." Richard says, changing the subject.

"Really?" John asks, perking up a bit at the news, "How?"

"Well, it had a huge numbers. A lot of people watched." Richard explains, "And when a lot of people watch something, a lot of people have a _lot_ to say."

John sighs inaudibly and braces himself, "And what are they saying?"

"Well, the robots' rights activist organizations loved it. So do a good chunk of the city. The more sympathetic ones, of course. They think you're a hero, and they like how you're standing up for your partner, though if you want them completely on your side as well as Dorian's you should make another statement." Richard says, "Some people remain unconvinced, though. They still think Dorian is just some droid and that you're just a traumatized cop who got a bit too attached to his synthetic. Like a therapy dog, or something."

"A therapy dog." John repeats, anger bubbling up. How fucking dare they. How dare they think that, and how dare they think their opinion _matters?_

"Hey, I'm just being honest. This is how it is. No point sugar-coating it. You need to make another appearance." he urges, "Something that'll make even the most steadfast of doubters or human supremacists see that Dorian is just as real as you or me."

John is shocked into silence for a moment before he says, "So you're my manager now?"

He has no idea why he said that, but he didn't quite expect Richard to direct him in what to do next either.

"Val and I, yeah." Richard says nonchalantly, "We discussed it, and we were going to call you. I guess it's luck you called us first."

"Oh." John replies dumbly, sensing that the conversation has taken a turn. To where, he has no idea.

"Listen, John." Richard starts, "Val and I have been talking and...we want to help."

John is silent, his brow furrowing as Richard continues.

"This is...big. InSyndicate is still looking for you, and you need a team. Even if it's just us."

"I-" John starts before he blurts out a shocked, "Okay."

"Okay." Richard says, wasting no time, "InSyndicate is quiet for now, but they haven't stopped looking for you. This is the time to plan what you'll do when you resurface, and when they target you again. Dorian too."

"Dorian?" John asks, snapping out of his surprised haze.

"Yeah. Valerie thinks they'll be after him too. They see how much he means to you." Richards says, like he's trying to explain something to an exceptionally stupid child, "They're trying to hurt you. So they'll hurt him. Again." he finishes grimly.

John feels anger rising again. They've _already_ hurt Dorian. They pinned him down and-

"John?" 

"Hm?" John says, teeth clenched in rage.

"Valerie thinks we should meet up. All of us." Richard says distractedly, and John hears the melodious tones of Valerie's voice in the background.

"When?" John asks.

He hears the phone rustle on the other end, a sharp 'hey!' from Richard, and then Valerie's voice, "Hey John, preferably soon. The chief of this department is trying to keep us busy with cases, so we need to squeeze this in quick before anyone suspects. Maldonado can give us tomorrow off if we're sure we can meet. How's that?"

Oh. John realizes he's almost forgotten that all the precinct officers were shoved into a different department.

He's been away a while. Sue him. He's had other things to deal with.

"Okay. But I can't risk being seen." John says quickly, looking at the clock. Dorian's session should be over in a few minutes, "So it has to be somewhere discreet."

"Rudy's lab?"

Well. That's an idea.

Not a _bad_ one either. Off the grid, not many people know about it. Secure.

"Fine. What time?"

"Around noon is good for Richard and I." Valerie says before she mutters a quick, "We have to go, John. See you tomorrow. Bring Dorian. Bye." and he hears a voice on the other end that he can't quite make out, and then she hangs up.

John can only begin to consider what happened before the door opens and Dorian and Valentina step out.

His partner looks somewhat okay, but Valentina looks at the DRN with worry in her eyes as Dorian steps around her and heads over to John. The detective looks at her, a question in his eyes, but she says nothing.

Dorian takes his hand, waves to Valentina--who smiles sadly and waves back--and then turns to John with a strained "Can we go home?" before John nods and leads him out of the room, into the elevator and onto the street. The kid at the desk in front looks at them strangely, and John barely has time to wonder why before the doors are open and they've stepped out into the sunlight.

And that where an already hard day turns to complete shit.

Because neither of them put back on their sunglasses, and John didn't call the cab beforehand because he was talking and planning with Richard and Val, so when they step onto the street and John hears a snapping sound and then an LED flashbulb go off (and it's amazing that professional cameras still even _have_ flashbulbs, for God's sake), a cab is nowhere to be found, and Dorian turns and is faced with several civilians gaping and taking video of them, along with several paparazzi snapping pictures.

It all moves in slow motion for John from there.

Another flash goes off, Dorian's eyes widen and his body tenses, someone calls out Dorian's name, and John realizes something.

_Someone must have told them they were there._

Someone _called_ them.

The building isn't on a particularly busy street, and as John gapes and looks around, he realizes there's more people here than he's ever seen before. And more approaching. Cars pulling up and photographers jumping out, reporters approaching, yelling things he can't understand.

There's so many of them. And they're all so _loud_.

And now they're cornered. 

One thing John never considered (or rather, what he underestimated) is how quick reporters and photographers swarm to the scene of an interesting story. Like flies.

One second there are just about 5 photographers, and then John blinks and there's a crowd. 


	35. Chapter 35

Dorian jumps at the wall of vicious sound and inches closer to John--the commotion startling him--and John can suddenly hear now that they're yelling  _louder_.

He's shocked and surprised and he doesn't snap out of it until he hears Dorian say his name, his voice panicked and his grip on his hand tightening in fear. John turns to the DRN, his back to the crowd, and he gets his first glimpse of Dorian's expression.

He's _terrified_.

John swallows down the frustration and anger (because these people are animals, how could anyone possibly think doing something like this is okay?) before he steps in Dorian's immediate line of sight, successfully shielding the DRN from the public. He can still hear the yells and cries for their attention behind him, but somehow, all John can focus on is his partner.

It's a bit like tunnel vision. Precise and specific.

The rest of the world blurs and cuts out, and all John is focused on is Dorian.

He's all that matters.

His eyes are wide--and he's frozen and tense-- the lights on his temple running up and down his face frantically.

John doesn't think, and instead reaches his hand up to rest on his partner's jaw, his other hand moving to rest firmly on his hip, and his hazel eyes staring steadfast into Dorian's own cool blue ones. He rubs his thumb across Dorian's cheek gently, the skin under his finger _so soft_ , and somehow that gets his attention, and Dorian's wide eyes turn to John before the detective realizes the DRN has started to tremble. 

' _Shock_ ' John's mind supplies. Dorian is shaking, his face a mask of fear, but other than that, he doesn't have much of a reaction at all. A defense mechanism.

The DRN's eyes are empty.

"Hey," John says softly, but still loud enough to be heard by Dorian over the roaring crowd that's gradually getting closer, "I'm here. You're fine."

Dorian blinks.

"It's okay. I'm here."

John can see the recognition and slight consciousnesses creeping into Dorian's face and he's thrilled, but once Dorian snaps out of it and fully takes in the force of the crowd, he'll be even more likely to have an explosive adverse reaction. And John won't be very composed himself.

The crowd is still yelling, and John can't make out many words, and he hopes Dorian can't either. Flashbulbs are still going off rather rapidly, the flashes of light illuminating the bits of Dorian's face that isn't shielded by John's body, and he doesn't quite notice how much louder the crowd gets when they realize he has moved intimately close to his partner and proceeded to caress his face until its too late.

They've all gotten the shot. He can imagine it, John standing protectively in front of his partner, shielding him from the crowd and holding his face in a gentle grasp.

It will be plastered on the cover of every tabloid and magazine by tomorrow morning. The news will go crazy and morning talk shows will analyze the picture to death, gossip will pour into the streets and twitter will explode in reactions.

Vultures.

Even so, he doesn't move. This isn't about them--the growing crowd--it's about keeping Dorian calm and assuring him that John won't let anything happen to him. That he'll always be there. He doesn't care what they see or what they say. He's done caring about what the world thinks of him. It's never done him any good. He needs to make sure his partner is okay. He needs to assure him that John is there and he won't leave. That he'll _fix this_. Just like he promised.

So he does.

He leans in closer and whispers a soft and sure, "I've got you."

"John."

The sound is small, and heartbreakingly afraid, and _dammit,_ _Dorian should never sound like this_. He's supposed to smile, snark, laugh and be sarcastic to the point of John wanting to tear his own hair out.

But this? That small scared voice? That shouldn't belong to Dorian. At all.

His heart shatters just a tiny bit more, and John doubts the sad, small and crumbled little muscle can take any more.

"It's okay." He says again. The crowd roars and he doesn't quite believe his own words, but he caresses Dorian's face, comforting him, doing the best he possibly can given the circumstances.

The DRN flinches at a particularly loud call of his name, the voice gruff and raspy, and Dorian's expression changes to one of pure panic and John only has a split second to feel anger and a flash of annoyance at the mob and the sickening feeling of utter _horror_ when Dorian's eyes widen in terror and fear before clenches his eyes shut, trembles more violently to the point where it's more of a full bodied shudder, and before John can ask what's going on, his partner croaks out a horrified, "That one...that one sounds like one of them."

"Who?"

Dorian goes rigid before he says, "The men in the warehouse. That one sounds just like one of them."

John goes still.

"I-I think it's him. My vocal recognition software-", he cuts off in a strangled and frightened noise, "John. It's _him_." Dorian gasps, panic in his voice but refusing to open his eyes, "I-I _can't-we need to go. He'll-He'll-_ "

John spins around, an arm behind him keeping his partner safely shielded behind his body, pure fury, rage and bloodlust working its way up his chest, past the shock.

He's going to kill him. And it'll be bloody and painful and John won't be sure whether he's going to be a monster or a hero afterward but he's going to do it. And he won't think twice, or hesitate, or falter. It'll be brutal, and John will love every second.

The crowd grows louder at the current sight of John and the fact that he's turned to face them, giving them the reaction they want as he scans the mob again.

"What does he look like, Dorian?" he calls behind him. His voice is firm and even despite the fact that his body is humming rage and instinct to _protect protect protect-_

"He has grey eyes. Black tattoos." Dorian grits out, eyes still shut. Body still shaking in a way he can't control.

The detective scans the crowd again.

And there he is. 

Tattoos on sickly pale skin, a leering smile. 

_And slate grey eyes. Looking right at them. Looking right at Dorian._

The world comes to a crashing halt.

John hasn't thought too in depth about what he would do should he come in contact with one of the monsters that hurt Dorian. John had purposefully veered his mind off the subject every time his mind presented it because he needed to stay calm and free of anger for Dorian's own peace of mind.

But he's never had a doubt that he would kill them. All of them. No other plan was on option. It was just a fact of life.

The sky is blue, the ocean is vast, water is wet, fire is hot, and John is going to brutally kill every single one of Dorian's rapists.

It didn't require much (or any) thought. He'd made his decision long ago--not even consciously, really--and he's going to carry it out.

So the fact that suddenly John's gun was in his hands despite not quite remembering when he took the weapon out of its holster isn't really a shock to him. Neither are the screams of panic, surprise and horror of the crowd, really.

The bright red car screeching through the crowd as reporters and photographers dive out of the way beside them, however?

 _That's_ a surprise. 

John is aware that too much is happening at once, but that doesn't stop the fact that his eyes are still glued to the tattooed InSyndicate member as the crowd scatters, the price of a few photos not worth the danger of the current commotion or getting shot, he guesses dully. 

Then, cutting through the noise like a spotlight, he hears another voice. A tinny, bratty voice.

"Detective Kennex!"

It's _familiar._

"Hey, idiot!!"

John sidesteps, one hand taking Dorian's and keeping the shaking DRN safely behind him as he moves into a better position to assess the entire situation, and keeps his gun trained on the target before glancing ever so fleetingly toward the new arrival. 

In the car that parted the crowd, is the red-haired girl from the restaurant. The one that told him off.

She half hangs out of the open door, her hair a mess of curls and her eyes bright.

"Get in the car!" she yells, her voice irritated and frantic. John looks back toward the man, and knows he can't let him get away.

He makes a decision. He doesn't quite know if he can trust this kid, but he has no choice if he wants to catch this guy.

And he does. He _has_ to.

"Dorian," he says firmly, and he feels a tinge of shame for ordering Dorian around like this, especially after the trauma he's most likely experiencing, but he has to protect him. He promised. So he raises his gun and keeps his eyes trained on the man, "Get in the car. I know her. It's safe. Go on."

He glances behind him and sees Dorian's retreating back--the DRN desperate to just get as far away from the commotion as possible--and takes off after the man once he sees his partner heading for the car.

He hears the girl call his name one last time, and then he hears nothing else but the steady pounding of his heart as he darts through the throngs of people, pushing anyone who gets in his way. 

The crowd was large, and despite having started to disperse after having seen John draw his weapon, it hasn't thinned out much, so John finds himself able to dart quickly to the left and watches with sick satisfaction as the the thug loses track of him in the crowd. John can see the man tense, his eyes scanning the waves of people for a glimpse of the detective, but John makes sure to stay out of sight. 

_This disgusting waste of human flesh and tissue wants to play predator and prey? He thinks he has the right? Well, John is the predator now. And he will be unmerciful. Cruel. Unforgiving._

He stalks through the commotion, eyeing the gang member like a shark, as he walks up behind him, his weapon raised. 

John hears a flashbulb go off.

And then he shoots the tattooed man in the leg.

The gunshot is loud and only spurs more screams and movement as the man yells in agony and falls to the ground in a crumpled heap. The mob disperses quicker, leaving the street abandoned except for John, the thug and the car.

John flashes a twisted smile at the sight of the man on the concrete--blood pouring from his wound as he gasps and cries out in pain, feebly trying to crawl away--and looks toward the car and catches sight of Dorian huddled in the back seat. Even from here he can see the vulnerable form of his partner.

And then the memory from that day comes back. _Dorian drawing on the fog on the window. Dorian saving them after the building erupted in flames. Dorian's smile before he takes off after the suspect._

_Finding him, in that warehouse, naked from the waist down. Covered in thick ropes of-_

_Unresponsive. Seeing him timid, hurt, violated and afraid in Rudy's lab, hiding behind a charger and speaking so low that John can barely hear him. Dorian trying to work for weeks at a time, acting like nothing is wrong and like he he hasn't been through something horrific and degrading. Trying to keep the tattered threads of himself together all on his own._

_Dorian contemplating killing himself, sitting on the crumbling counter of an abandoned pet store._

_Dorian crying._

He makes sure the DRN isn't looking before he shoots the man again in the other leg.

"No point trying to get away." John says, his voice colder than he's ever heard it, ice and rage over the thug's pained screams.

The street is empty now, and John is grateful.

No one needs to see what he's about to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man. Writing this chapter was hard. I'm going to make an 8tracks mix for this fic very soon btw.  
> Sorry this took so long.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING FOR VIOLENCE

There are a lot of different types of rage.

But in John's experience, the most dangerous and terrifying kind is the silent thrumming under the skin. The kind that has your body wound tight as a coil, but your mind clear and quiet. The kind that eliminates thought but has your body moving of autopilot. The kind that has your skin heating and prickling with fury. The kind that shuts down all inhibitors in your brain. 

The kind that pushes you out of your body.

The kind that has John standing over just one small particle of the bottom feeding scum of the earth and considering exactly what kind of message he wants to send to InSyndicate using the disgusting excuse for a man before him.

Because this isn't only revenge, it's an opportunity. 

To send a message to InSyndicate that John Kennex and Dorian are not to be messed with. That Dorian is under his protection. 

That they're just as terrifying. If not more.

_Yes, he can use this._

He can show that no matter how large and ruthless this organization is, that they can do just as much damage as them.

So John leans down and grasps the man harshly by the neck, his skin crawling with the fact that he has to touch such a disgusting, dirty piece of _trash_ before he hears footsteps.

They're light, and slightly hesitant. He knows exactly who it is.

"Don't try to stop me, kid."

He can't see her from his view from his predatory crouch on the pavement, but he's sure she has some truly infuriating, know-it-all look on her face.

"I'm not here to stop you." the redhead snaps, exasperation in her voice, "I'm here to make sure you make him suffer and don't chicken out with the whole 'I-won't-stoop-to-his-level' thing you hero-types tend to chronically suffer from."

"That's not something you'll have to worry about when it comes to this." John says drily, his voice pitching low and rough, fury bubbling under his skin.

"Good. Because then I'd have to shoot you both." she says, before she follows it a moment later with a quiet and hesitant, "So what are ya gonna do with him?"

John squeezes the huffing man's neck, feeling the brittle bones cracking under his fingers as the thug chokes and squirms in the puddle of his own blood, sounds of pain squeezing past his dirt-stained lips.

The sounds of his pain and discomfort are satisfying.

Though not satisfying enough, he finds.

"I'm going to send a message." John says cryptically, his voiced low and rough.

Not unlike the growl of a hungry and bloodthirsty wolf.

And with that, John takes off his jacket and hands it to the girl--who takes it with a huff and a mutter of _'I'm not your friggin maid, Kennex'_ which he ignores in favor of taking his knife out of his back pocket--and in one swift movement, takes the man's hand, brings his other fist down harshly on the thug's face--the crunch of bones cracking echoing in the street-- before with one swift movement and a flash of silver from the knife, takes off a finger.

The cut is swift, clean and the entire action only takes about 3 seconds.

The girl jumps back with a startled yell of ' _Jesus_ ', narrowly dodging the small, severed appendage as John throws it sideways.

The deserted block is filled with the screams of the thug--his broken nose making his blood curdling howl of pain even more disturbing, blood making the sounds wet and disgusting--and the echoes bounce off the buildings.

Pure, white hot rage takes over then, John grasps the man by his neck harder, the tendons giving way under his merciless grip as he hauls the man up by his throat before directing his attention to the car.

Dorian is still huddled in the back seat, and John can see that a blanket has been thrown over him, probably by the red haired girl.

His eyes are closed. Clenched shut.

Good.

Dorian doesn't need to see the man who violated him, held by John's bloody hand.

But this monster needs to see Dorian.

This parasite needs to look into that car, and see Dorian and know exactly why John is about to tear into him piece by bloody, meaty piece.

"Look at him." John rasps, and he barely recognizes his voice, and feels his hand tightening around the man's neck, almost on its own, "Look at him."

The thug squirms, his broken nose making his pained rasps take in a wheezing sound as blood pours from his hand.

"You see him?" John says, his voice dripping venom as he whispers in the terrified man's ear, "You hurt him. You pinned him down, and took something from him. Something he didn't give you permission to have. You pinned him down and took it. Like the animal you are. How dare you."

The thug yelps in pain when John quickly punches him in the ribs before yanking him upright when he folds in on himself with a pained cry, trying to protect his middle from more blows.

"You thought you could do that to someone and get away with it?" John sneers, his voice unrecognizable to his own ears, "You thought we wouldn't find you?"

The man struggles pathetically, and John laughs at the obvious fear and terror in his eyes.

He shakes him like a rag doll, adrenaline coursing through his body allowing him to hold the man up like he weighs nothing. John feels something manically gleeful race through him before he laughs nastily, low and predatory.

He bares his teeth like a lion about to snap a hyena's neck.

"I bet you're afraid, right? I bet you feel helpless and powerless. A lot like little fish on a big, scary hook that's about to rip you apart." John tells him, his face twisting into a nasty smile and a faux expression of fake, sick, syrupy-sweet sympathy before it falls and clouds over, taking on a dark, furious look, rage barely concealed behind hazel eyes, "I bet you want to run away. I bet you're the most afraid you've ever been."

"I think that's also how my partner felt." he barks in the man's ear, the sudden volume and the tightening of John's hand on his already bruised neck making him whimper pathetically.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Dorian curl up tighter in the car, shaking slightly.

"Look at him." he growls, digging his bloody fingernails into the thug's tattooed neck, drawing more blood that burrows beneath John's nails, "Look at him, think about what you did to him, and know you're an _animal_. And that I'm going to put you down like the beast you are."

The man whines brokenly from the back of his throat and struggles weakly again, and John freezes when he hears a pathetic ' _Sorry_ ' come from the man, the single word choked with blood and a lack of oxygen.

"Sorry?" John barks, venom and fire lacing his words as the thug winces in his grasp, "Sorry?!" he sneers again, "You weren't sorry when you were raping my partner. You weren't sorry when you were recording what you did to him and laughing." John squeezes the thug's neck tighter, digging his fingernails into the wounds on the skin there, more blood running down as the criminal chokes and weakly raises a hand to pry the enraged detective's hand off his neck as John spits, "Were you sorry when you were jacking off over him? When you left him there? When you released the video and humiliated him?"

John whips out the pocket knife again, the sounds of the razor slicing the air as he flicks it open meeting his ears with a sharp ' _ziiiiiip_!' sound before he quickly plunges it into the man's abdomen without a thought.

The man screams and the red-haired girl jumps, and John catches the movement out of the corner of his eye.

He'd forgotten she was there.

John pays her no mind, and she doesn't stop him, or say a word as he throws the thug to the ground and kicks him rapidly in the chest, the crunching of ribs making him grin. It feels ugly and sick on his face.

It's perfect.

"You're going to be a message." John says easily, "Your buddies are gonna see you, in pieces, scattered on the street, and they'll know who did it. And why." he crouches next to the wheezing man and swiftly yanks his knife out of his chest as the criminal whimpers, too weak to scream any louder, "Hell," John smiles, " I might even leave a note stabbed into your chest, just so they're sure." 

The thug shifts quickly, turning on newly broken ribs to look John in the eye from his position curled in on himself on the hard concrete, his left eye swollen shut, his nose broken and his lip split, his abdomen sliced open and his finger sawed off. The criminal is covered in blood, and unable to move,dying ever so slowly.

Blood staining his teeth as it fills his asophogus.

He looks John in the eyes and gurgles, "Best fuck of my life. Tight and pretty, too. You should have seen how he laid there. Gorgeous."  he says, blood spilling over the edge of his smile, "He couldn't fight. Just let us in between those pretty little legs of his. Didn't make a sound."

John freezes.

The girl gasps softly, her hand clenching her t-shirt in horror.

John's brain never catches up with his body after that, so when he raises his knife and slices into the criminal's chest, he feels nothing, and he doesn't think about how the man must have known he was never getting out alive and decided to spur John on with disgusting and cruel ramblings in order for him to snap and get the pain to stop.

To just kill him.

All John can feel is the muscles and bone in his shoulder creaking when he raises his arm, over and over again, the warm sprays of blood on his face, and the dim realization when the man stops making choked off, pained noises, yelps and screams. He moves mechanically, no strategy or method to his madness or his movements. 

Its like his entire consciousness has gone dark and all that's working is his body, the edges of his vision fading as he hacks at the man below him.

' _Kennex_.' 

He hears a voice, it sounds far away but he hears it. 

' _Kennex_!'

He doesn't pay attention to it. It doesn't matter.

' _John_!'

He stops and blinks.

The first thing he realizes when he can feel his body again in that he's soaked. His face, his hair, his shirt, his pants. Bloody.

The next thing he realizes is that the pulpy mess of shredded muscle, skin and tendons _used_ to be a person.

It's unrecognizable now, other than the blocky tattoo that is left on a bit of an arm he hadn't slashed to bits.

"You have to stop now." a shaky voice says behind him, the redhead stepping closer slowly, wariness rolling off of her in waves, "Or InSyndicate won't recognize him."

He doesn't realize he's risen to his feet until he's looking down at the girl, wariness rolling off of her in waves,  her eyes defiant and shielding the layer of underlying fear.

She holds out a handkerchief, "Wipe your face."  she snaps.

He narrows his eyes.

"You're covered in blood and you look like a psycho. Wipe your face. You can't see yourself. He can." she says.

He takes the cloth, looking towards the car. Dorian is still huddled in the back seat, but he can see that Dorian is leaned forward slightly--

_talking_ to someone. In the front seat of the car.

The figure is dark, and gesturing animatedly.

John whirls on the girl and hisses, "Who is that? Who did you bring with you?!"

The girl jumps at his outburst, but narrows her eyes and bravely stands her ground, "That's Ellie. My girlfriend. She wants to help."

"If she hurt Dorian in any way--"

He knows he's being unfair. That the kid is only 20 at most, and chances are, her girlfriend is as young and harmless as she is, but something in him is still feral, scorching and simmering just under his skin, anger painting his insides a vicious red. He's still pulsing with something dark and overprotective. 

He knows he's being an asshole. But that doesn't stop him from baring his teeth. He's still riding a bloodthirsty, twisted and sick high.

"You won't touch her you fucking beast." the girl hisses, her fists clenching as she takes a threatening step toward him, "We're trying to _help_ you, you dick." She snaps, "And Ellie has been keeping Dorian distracted while you went all Rambo on this guy. So you're welcome. Idiot."

John falters, coming back to his senses, before he gives her one last look and quickly makes his way toward the car, wiping his face on the handkerchief.

It comes away red.

He throws open the door to the car and finds another girl with brown skin and curly black hair that takes up most of the space around her face, her nose piercing glinting in the light. Her large eyes turn to him, and Dorian's does too. She looks like a doll. All big eyes and shiny hair.

He takes in the girl in the passengers seat before he turns to his partner.

"You okay?" he says, his voice and eyes softening. Dorian is swamped in a blanket, his shoulders tense and his eyes wide.

Dorian looks at him, a question in his eyes as he takes in John's bloody clothes and the dried red on his face.

"I'm fine." the DRN says, voice small, "Ellie helped me stop overheating and talked to me. Gave me a blanket." he says,  gesturing to the pink fabric, "I think I'm fine now."

John looks at the girl, her wide brown eyes looking at him with a wariness that mirrors her girlfriend's.

The guilt edges up his throat.

"Thanks for helping him." he says to her, "He means a lot to me."

Ellie's expression brightens and she smiles.

Dorian shifts, "Did--did you--"

John looks down at his hands, the knuckles bloody and split from when he punched the thug in the face.

"Yeah." he says simply.

They're all silent, and John realizes that the redhead has walked up behind him at some point.

"I want to see him." Dorian says, his eyes hard and his voice quiet and even.

John's head snaps up, and he opens his mouth in shock before be snaps it shut and mutters, "Dorian--I don't think--"

"I want to see him." the DRN repeats firmly, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

John balks at the thought of Dorian so close to his rapist, even if he's a bloody mess on the sidewalk.

His instinct is still to protect and John's skin prickles when Dorian looks him in the eyes and steps out of the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie. I described Ellie and made her look more or less like me lol.  
> Anyway. John gets dark in this chapter.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content in this chapter.

For all his hesitation, John can't seem to bring himself to stop Dorian from getting out of the car.

A small voice at the back of his head suggests the thought that it really isn't his place to make this decision for Dorian. He knows that voice is right, but it doesn't stop his heart from pounding as Dorian makes it to the front of the car, and looks at the remains of what used to be a despicable human being strewn across the sidewalk.

John's worry multiplies tenfold when Dorian stands by the right headlight of the car but doesn't move any further.

The DRN is just standing there, tense and still, far away from the corpse of one of the men who violated him and ruined everything he'd made for himself since his reactivation, and he isn't _moving_.

John isn't sure what he expected, and maybe that's as close as Dorian wants to be, but the tense line of his shoulders says otherwise.

He's _scared_.

John kicks himself mentally as the next few seconds tick by in the world's slowest and most depressing parade because Dorian is _panicking_ and John is just staring at his back, crouched by the front seat of some girl's car (he realizes he doesn't even know the kid's name--for fuck's sake), and unable to move.

He realizes his lack of motion is probably because he's coming down from an extreme adrenaline high, but that doesn't stop the guilt creeping up his throat. He needs to get over there, he needs to help him. His Dorian. He fidgets and stands shakily, and before he can move he's hit with the thought that maybe he wouldn't be helping the situation if he approached Dorian right now, especially in his state.

The kid had said he looked like a psycho, and he doesn't doubt it.

What can he do? What was he even planning to do? He's covered in blood and he's still twitching with anger and the faint simmer of violence. Walking up to Dorian in his fragile state of mind might not be the smartest thing to do. He's soaked and angry. The exact opposite of what Dorian needs.

He has no idea what to do. He doesn't want to scare him, and Dorian had already looked disturbed by John's appearance when he'd crouched by the car to inquire as to how the DRN was doing, and he's sure Dorian couldn't even see the worst of the blood then. If he stands up and approaches him, then he certainly can. Will he be afraid of John then? Will he be able to differentiate between John and his attackers? 

Is John just as vicious? Will Dorian think so?

He can't scare him again.

As soon as that thought enters his mind, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye.

Ellie moves to get out of the car, her hair bouncing as she takes soft and careful steps toward his partner. John's instinct to protect flares as the girl stands in front of the DRN, but dies down once he can see the look on her face.

Pure _concern_.

He can see Dorian's head turn to look down at her, and the small girl raises her fingers and--

signs to him, he fingers moving skillfully and quickly.

Her eyes are wide and Dorian nods before John sees him sign back, and John blinks before he turns to the redhead standing behind him. She watching the scene with a faint smile, eyes on Ellie, and only turns to away and faces John when he clears his throat and says, "So Ellie is--"

"Deaf." she finishes for him, her voice sharp and her eyes narrowing like she's daring him to say anything about it.

He thinks he should be offended by her implication, but then he remembers that he is the one that accused a small black girl of hurting Dorian before he'd even met or  _seen_ her, so he figures it's fair. Guilt colors his face before he says, "Uh--about earlier, sorry for...thinking that Ellie would--"

"Whatever. You're protecting your partner, which is what I yelled at you about in that restaurant in the first place. You didn't hurt her, which is lucky for you because if you even said so much as rude word to her I would have killed you where you stood. Also, noodles? Seriously?"

"Noodles are great." he snaps back defensively before he turns away from her smug grin and towards the pair at the front of the car again, "And how did you even find us?" he asks a few moments later, his eyes not leaving the scene in front of him.

"I have eyes everywhere." she says cryptically. He rolls his eyes, but doesn't ask her to elaborate.

Ellie is still signing something--and Dorian is responding, his hands moving quickly as his shoulders relax (' _and of course Dorian knows sign language'_ , John thinks, ' _the perfect little nerd_ ')-- before the girl starts to reach to take the DRN's hand, before she freezes and signs something to him. Dorian nods, and Ellie smiles and takes Dorian's hand in hers before they start walking towards the mess on the street. 

It takes John a minute for it to strike him that Ellie was asking Dorian if she could hold his hand and accompany him to the horror show on the pavement.

She knew he was afraid.

She'd _asked_ before she touched him.

John feels even more guilty for freaking out about her presence now. She's so... _sweet_.

"How did she get saddled with you?" John asks smugly, "She's so sweet, and you're...not."

The kid scoffs, "I could ask you the same thing about Dorian."

John huffs.

He thinks to protest, but he's distracted by the image before him. Dorian and Ellie, brown hands interlocked as Dorian looks down at the pulpy mess on the pavement, no doubt trying to rationalize that this is one of the men that hurt him, and Ellie--one hand over her eyes and nose--right beside him.

"She really shouldn't stay over there too long." the kid behind him mutters, "The smell..."

He doesn't quite understand what she means until it hits him that Ellie's other senses are most likely heightened and the smell of blood and gore would make itself known to her in a major way very soon. They don't have enough time to worry though, because he blinks and Dorian is gently tugging the girl away from the carnage--her hands still over her eyes--and toward the car.

Dorian's face is blank, and when Ellie senses that they're far away from the body and close enough to the car, she removes her hand from her eyes and looks up at Dorian. Dorian signs at her, and she signs back before they part and get back in the car.

John blinks, still standing beside the open door. He watches Dorian pull the blanket back over himself, the blue lights whizzing up and down his cheek and John moves to open the door and sit next to the DRN--and hesitates.

"Get in the car Kennex." the redhead says.

"You know what, kid? You're ordering me around and I don't even know your damn _name._ " he snaps, glaring at her.

"The name's Celeste, and in addition to ordering you around, I'm also the one saving your ass, so there's that too." she replies smartly, eyes narrowing, completely unimpressed.

John huffs, "Fine. I'll get blood _all_ over your seats. Don't mind if I do."

"That's what electro-washes are for, idiot." she says grinning, before she gets in and closes the driver's door.

John huffs, but gets in the car with an annoyed, "Are you even old enough to drive?" shot towards the back of Celeste's head.

"Well, I'm your best shot of getting off this street before the cops some around and find you, grandpa. So be nice."

John rolls his eyes, she sounds far too amused and he intends to be irritated about it for a few more minutes before he's distracted by Dorian moving over to his side and shoving himself under John's arm, and up against him.

His heart nearly stops.

Because Dorian doesn't seem afraid, or even like he _notices_ the fact that John is drenched in blood and his own sweat. And while he isn't crazy about getting the blood on Dorian (which, from what he can see, is exactly what's happening), he can't quite bring himself to suggest that Dorian move away.

On one hand, he feels like the blood on himself has no place on Dorian, he has the foolish thought that John would...taint him somehow, by allowing him snuggle up to him.

But on the other hand..

the fact that Dorian feels safe enough around him to be so intimately _close_ after John expressed so much violence and cruelty (which was much deserved, and he doesn't regret what he's done one bit, and he's dead enough inside to admit it, thank you very fucking much), means the _world_ to him. It means Dorian _trusts_ him. _Truly_ trusts him.

Even after seeing John sink to such a primitive low (and like he said, he doesn't regret it one fucking bit) to still want to be near him?

Christ.

He _loves_ this guy.

Like, a lot.

Dorian places his head on John's shoulder, right under the human's chin and closes his eyes.

The ride is quiet.

Dorian gets blood on himself, but is steadfastly by John's side.

Still there. 

~

They drop them off at John's apartment (and John notices that Celeste takes a few backstreets and odd routes, in case someone gets the bright idea to follow them, her eyes on the rear-view mirror looking for any tails), with a wave and a promise to somehow get in touch soon. Ellie smiles and Dorian signs something to her, John waves, and they enter the apartment.

They stand there in the living room, covered in blood.

The perfect picture of fucking domestic fucking bliss, and all that.

John drops his keys and tries not to upset himself when he catches the blood he's rubbed off on Dorian.

"C'mon." Dorian says, his voice small as he tugs at John's bloody sleeve, "Shower. You first."

John nods.

~

Dorian showers next, and John leaves a fresh pair of most likely too-large clothes on the small counter for Dorian, and tries not to think about the time when all of this is over and he can join Dorian in shower.

He thinks about the fact that his partner is unclothed, wet and completely gorgeous, and promptly wants to stab _himself_ in the stomach.

It doesn't stop his mind from betraying him, thinking of touching Dorian freely and never having to worry about scaring him or going too far. Thoughts of waking up next him early in the morning, reaching into his pants and-

He feels disgusting for even thinking about that, but he feels blood travelling to a part of him he hasn't thought about in ages, and has to put on a looser pair of sweatpants, and try to hold his complete and utter disgust with himself at bay.

John sits on the couch, listening to the sound of water running, and hates himself more with every passing second. 

~

It almost laughable how _normal_ the day ends. They end up on the couch--though the television isn't on--John having calmed down enough to not think too much of it when Dorian comes in wearing a black sweater way too big for him and pajama pants before he curls up at his side.

What surprises him is the fact that Dorian looks at him, presses closer and says, "Thank you." 

John blinks and goes, "Anything for you."

It comes out so easily. And it's so true. Because he knows Dorian would do anything for him too. And he has. He's saved John over and over again. From gunfire, from himself....

And that's why they _work_ , among other reasons.

Dorian's eyes widen a fraction, he moves slowly, his eyes never leaving the human's as he slowly brings his lips to John's. 

It's just as soft as the kiss on his cheek, but this time his mind reels and his body reacts because Dorian is pressing _closer_ and not stopping.  

And John gets to _taste_ Dorian this time.

And he tastes better than he could have ever _imagined_.

His lips are soft and not quite human, and John can feel Dorian's arms wrapping around his neck to press his body closer to John's and the detective has to keep himself in check because the feeling of Dorian's body so _close_ , so _warm_ and the taste of his lips so soft and fucking perfect makes him want to pin his partner to the couch and kiss him deeper. Makes him want to get Dorian beneath him, touch him everywhere, kiss everywhere else and make him feel so good and so fucking _loved_ -

John settles for wrapping his arms around Dorian's waist, and gasps when the DRN licks at his upper lip, feather soft and unsure. 

It's soft, and timid, and completely inexperienced and sloppy, but it's Dorian, so John can't help but think it's perfect.

They're so close, Dorian practically in John's lap, John huffing little aroused puffs of breath against Dorian's lips as they softly kiss and lean into each other.

Closer and closer.

The feeling of the light, gentle press of Dorian's lips is positively erotic, and John feels himself hardening in his pants, his entire body humming with the feeling of Dorian's body pressing so close he can feel his partner's chest against his own, his lips so soft and plush against his and his tongue delicately licking at his lips and teeth shyly, trying to taste him. John's mind basically stops all higher functions at this point and he groans softly when he feels Dorian's fingers softly run though the hair at the back of his head, before the DRN opens his mouth and lets John in. 

John seizes the invitation, and he gently sweeps his tongue against his partner's, his mind nearly exploding at the sound of Dorian sighing into his mouth. John can't help but clutch him tighter, his hands roaming along his back, just trying to feel as much of him as possible.

And that's how John ends up with his arms full of his partner, softly plundering Dorian's mouth, the soft sounds of lips meeting echoing in the dark living room.

When they part, they're both flushed, lips wet and eyes glazed and half lidded. Dorian kisses him once more, a small smile sent John's way before he goes to charge, and John lays there as Dorian goes offline, before he reaches in his pants and wraps a warm hand around himself. He's harder than he's ever been, and he twitches in his own hand.

He desperately tries not to, but he imagines Dorian. Under him, moaning in that soft, even voice of his. Panting his name like its the only word in the world. Looking up at him with adoration and lust, pupils blown wide in those blue, blue eyes. He imagines fingering him open, his fingers slick with lube or spit and plunging inside his partner's wet, tight, soft, scorching heat. Dorian's soft thighs clenching around John's hips as John thrusts in and out of him. Feeling Dorian around him. His walls holding him close and sucking him in. Dorian taking his length so well, so pretty and perfect. Whimpering his name. Arching into him, lips in a perfect pout, wet and glistening. Slipping his fingers into Dorian's mouth as the DRN moans his name. He imagines leaving bite marks on his skin and showing everyone that _he_ loves him. That Dorian chose _him_.

He comes silently, harder than he ever has, and feels absolutely nauseated and repulsed with himself.

He's revolting, surely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got new antidepressants and has the will to live and write again??? ITS MEEEEE. Anyway. I'm back from my friend's house for the summer and I'm back at home, so I can write consistently now. Sorry about the long wait. I feel really bad :(((
> 
> ALSO YAY FOR DORIAN'S PROGRESS!! And also...poor John.


	38. Chapter 38

John went to sleep disgusted with himself and woke up the exact same way.

The gravitas of what he's done hits him like a brick and he clenches his eyes shut, the feeling of his boxers sticking to him making him nauseous.

Lusting after a rape victim. _A new low_ , John thinks. He's so fucking repulsive. How _dare_ he?

If John needed any other proof that something is severely wrong with him, this is it.

How is he going to be able to look Dorian in the eye after this?

And that's the thought that has him rising from the couch in a panic and heading into the shower, because he cannot have Dorian knowing about _anything_ that happened after he went to charge.

God, John is _disgusting_. How could he do that? Dorian trusts him to _hold_ him and _help_ him, not to lust after him and jack off to thoughts of him. 

John grabs some clothes on the way, and shuts himself in the bathroom. His mind races and he fumbles to get into the shower, clean himself off, and then step out, but halfway into drying off and slipping on his jeans and boots, he starts to panic.

 _Really_ , panic. 

It starts with his hands, it _always_ starts with his hands. They go numb, then they shake to the point where he can't hold anything, then his breath becomes impossible to catch. His chest feels like its on fire as he stumbles into the door, pressing his back against it, losing his footing and landing on the floor with a _'thump'_. 

John gasps and coughs, his breath hitching and his nose feeling like he's inhaled flames because  _oh god it it burns_ , and he can't stop himself from making a choked off and desperate noise that he's sure he's going to be embarrassed about later. But for now his lungs feel like they've shrunk three times too small and he will never get enough air, and John panics because he's going to suffocate isn't he? On the floor of his bathroom. Alone.

Panic attacks aren't new to him, though the suddenness and severity of this one hits him in the stomach like a punch to the middle. His skin overheats and yet he feels cold, goosebumps breaking out over his skin and his face as he starts to shiver.

His mouth tastes like ash.

John has not made it a secret that he and his mind are not on great terms, and it is proven when--in addition to the fact that he is gasping for air while both burning _and_ freezing--he's suddenly having several different flashbacks at once, rolled into one horrific scenario.

He's in the raid all over again, and he can smell the gunpowder, the burnt concrete and the blood, the scent clogging his senses and making his stomach churn. He's on the ground, the broken, jagged gravel digging into his hands as he leans up and catches sight of Pelham's dead body, bloody and half blown to bits along with John's leg which leaks blood, the jagged bone protruding from the gaping space his calf used to occupy. 

The burning flesh he smells, he realizes, is his. The charred edges of the stump of his leg still smoking, puffs of odor still rising.

The flashback goes how it always does, even at the recollectionists. He turns numbly on his side and starts the slow pathetic crawl away from the carnage--

until something catches his eye.

Another body, in a blue jacket. Black pants. Combat boots.

The sleeve of the jacket has a patch that reads 'DRN'.

Dorian.

In a crumpled heap on the floor, purple ooze pooling under him.

He freezes, and screams. 

And all he can think is, _'I did this I did this this is my fault I lead them into disaster I lead them both into disaster they're dead because of me I did this my fault my fault my fault my fault--'_

John claws at his neck, fighting for breath he knows he doesn't deserve.

_Pelham and Dorian are dead. John's fault. His fault his fault his fault his fault--_

John continues to panic, until he feels something.

A weight. On his hand. Pressing. Gentle.

_Insistent._

'John can you hear me?'

The gunfire and the smell of death slowly recede, the flashback melting at the edges until the voice speaking to him is less of a distant noise but more rooted in his reality. He focuses on the weight in his hand along with the new one on his chest, not constricting, but gentle.

The pressure grounds him and he takes his first precious lungful of air before his vision clears and he finds himself staring into two blue eyes.

He blink and takes in gulps of air like a man starved, dimly realizing that somehow Dorian had gotten into the bathroom, taken his hand and brought him back to where he needed to be.

He's saved him once again.

"John." Dorian says, his voice soft and his thumb stroking across the thin skin of John's hand, "Can you hear me?"

John shudders and nods, the feeling returning to his body ever so slowly, and when he's able, he gently squeezes Dorian's hand, his body still weak from fear and the stress of the worst panic attacks he's had in a while.

"John, can you breathe along with me?" Dorian asks softly, and John sees the underlying fear and panic in his eyes. He would apologize for scaring him, but he can't speak yet, and he knows the scratchy sounds that would come from his throat would only worry the DRN more.

Dorian shouldn't worry. John is supposed to be taking care of _him_. Not the other way around.

His face colors in shame as he nods again.

"Good." Dorian coos, placing one of John's hands on his chest, and John can feel Dorian's body under the thin sweater he's wearing, and tries to inhale when he feels his partners chest rising, and exhale when he feels it falling.

"Good, John." Dorian soothes, "That's great. Stay with me, John. Breathe with me."

They stay like that until John gets his breathing back to normal as Dorian talks him through it, his voice soft and his hands holding John's. It takes an embarrassingly long time, but eventually his shaking subsides and John realizes at some point that Dorian has placed his hand on John's cheek, cradling his jaw and holding his other hand.

"Are you okay?" Dorian asks after a moment, panic in his tone, "I disconnected from my charger and heard you gasping in the bathroom. Your readings were off the charts and I--"

"I'm fine, Dorian." John says, trying to manage a shaky smile. He's aware it probably comes off as less of a smile and more like the expression of someone who has just swallowed a fly, but hell, he's trying.

"No, you're not." Dorian says, his eyes glued to John's, "You're stressed and you haven't been sleeping or eating. I've noticed. I'm sorry. I should have intervened sooner."

God, he looks so _guilty_. He shouldn't be. It's not the DRN's fault that John can't function like a goddamn adult.

"Dorian--"

"You have to start taking better care of yourself, John."

"I'm fine--"

"--you've been so busy taking care of me you've neglected yourself, I haven't even noticed--"

"Hey, don't--"

"I'm so, so sorry." Dorian says, his voice tight as he places his hand behind John's neck--running his hand through his hair--and pressing close for a hug. He wraps his arms around John, and the detective buries his face in his neck, and breathes deeply. They stay like that for a few moments, before they part from each other about a fraction of an inch and John says, "Don't be sorry. I'm fine. I should have been looking after myself. I'm sorry I scared you, D."

Dorian blinks and John can feel his partner's fingers threading in his hair, "It's not about scaring me. It's about you being healthy. You've been under a lot of stress, John. You need a break. You need rest and regular meals."

"Dorian--"

"I mean it, John. You're pale and your cortisol levels are through the roof. You need to stop thinking about me for a bit and start thinking about yourself. I've been neglecting your health, and I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Dammit Dorian, you don't have to babysit me." he says, though there is no heat behind it, "You need help too, we can't just turn around and ignore you now because I freaked out once--"

"That wasn't any minor episode, John!" Dorian says firmly, "You couldn't breathe. What would have happened had I not found you? You're turning green and you have bags under your eyes--"

"And you're not doing so great either, so it's not that big a deal, D." John sighs, taking his hand in a loose grip, "You need to take it easy too--"

"Not as much as you." Dorian snaps, "I'm built to be durable John, but you--"

"Don't give me the 'I'm-a-robot-don't-worry-about-me' spiel," John says, his voice growing darker, "I'm already worried about you."

"That's the _problem_!" Dorian snaps again, "You shouldn't be, I should be able to--"

"Stop it." John hisses, "Don't even finish that sentence."

Dorian snaps his jaw shut and glares at John.

If he wasn't so worried about how the conversation would end he would laugh because here they are, on the bathroom floor, holding hands and yelling at each other to take care of themselves.

Domestic bliss indeed.

John only has a few seconds to dwell on how mushy, sappy and couple-y they've become before he hears Dorian say, "You were moaning in your sleep." softly.

John blanches.

"Was it a nightmare?" Dorian asks, picking up on John's distress, "Is that why you had a panic attack?"

The hell is he supposed to say to that? _'Hey, I totally know that you were brutally raped and victimized but hey, I totally fantasized about fucking you senseless and having you moaning while I pinned you under me. Wild right?'_

He can't say that. He _won't._  He feels sick just thinking about it. The guilt slams into him and he's about 80% sure he's going to barf. John's face grows red with shame, but he bites his tongue and grits out, "I don't want to talk about it."

And suddenly, he feels like he shouldn't be touching Dorian at all. How can he when he obviously can't control himself and keep his body in check? 

He becomes super aware of the fact that their hands are intertwined, and his eyes widen when he realizes that he should pull back. Because if Dorian finds out about the thoughts he's been having then it'll all be ruined. He won't feel safe with John anymore. 

Maybe he _shouldn't_ feel safe with John. 

He's not so sure he's good for Dorian anymore.

He's about to let go of Dorian's hands before he sees his partner about to caress his cheek, a look of concern on his face.

It's a knee-jerk reaction, but he drops Dorian's hands and jerks away from him before the DRN can touch his face. 

Before Dorian can further taint himself. Because sure, it was just a flashback, but maybe there was some truth in it. He might be killing Dorian. Like how he oversaw and organized the raid that killed Pelham. He can't let that happen. Not again. He can't--

So many people have died because of him, he can't keep taking advantage of Dorian. And _God_ , that's exactly what he's doing isn't it? His partner is hurt and _needy_ , craving comfort and John took it too far--

The look of hurt on Dorian's face nearly kills him. His hand frozen in midair, his eyes wide, and John feels his heart rate pick up because _look what he's done_ \--

he's made Dorian _dependent_ on him. He's made him crave his attention and made him accept John's touches and kisses and he probably was too afraid John would leave to fight back--

_And that's what predators do, isn't it?_

Is that what John is?

With the strength he can muster before he has another panic attack, he throws himself to his feet, grabs his shirt and bolts. 

His heart hammers as he grabs his phone, and flies out of the apartment like the hounds of hell are at his heels.

He slams his way into his car, his hands shaking violently and his lungs burning for air as he gasps and leans his head on the steering wheel.

_Predator._

He starts the ignition, his entire body shaking, and he pulls out of the parking space with a screech.

~

Dorian sits alone on the bathroom floor in John's too big sweater, stunned and unable to move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh John.


	39. Chapter 39

Dorian blinks.

He knows something just happened, and he knows that it was something significant, but the fact that he's stunned and it was so sudden doesn't make his processors move any faster to make sense of it all.

Subroutines and protocols are screaming at him for several different reasons, informing him of John's hormone levels and possible scenarios since the human has left the apartment in such a state, but all Dorian can think is--

John's not here. John _left_.

He promised he wouldn't. He said he wouldn't leave. But he did. He's _gone._ John's _gone_. He left him.

Then he mentally kicks himself for being so selfish. Because John is in _danger_ and he's stressed, panicked, sleep deprived and malnourished and now _he's out there alone_ \--

He ignores the panic after a few seconds, and replays the footage, John yanking back his hands like Dorian has burned him. The way John looked at him...

Is he disgusted with him? Did he do something wrong? If so, what could it have been?

The kissing last night was really nice, and John had responded rather enthusiastically...

But most of all, Dorian remembers feeling _safe_. At some point he started equating the human with safety and thus is able to kiss him and touch him (and allow the human to hold him) with only bit of mild anxiety nudging at him.

The way John looked at him though. Eyes wide, lip slightly raised, brow furrowed.

Dorian is programmed with plenty of information about body language and physical tells. It's essential. A requirement. In order to build an android to be a halfway decent cop, they'll need to be able to read body language. Facial expressions.  A micro-expression. Because humans are a finicky bunch--as are DRNs, Dorian reminds himself--and emotions are so unpredictable that a lot of them can't be put into words. Or if someone has something to hide. Or something they're too ashamed to say.

Thus, body language subroutines.

They were useful--though sometimes Dorian ended up learning things he didn't want to know about some people--and basically mandatory if Dorian wanted to be any good at catching criminals. 

The point is, Dorian can read people pretty well.

The study of micro expressions is nothing new. Not at all. And now, androids as well as some select humans who have studied in the scientific field know how to read the subtle lines of people's faces to get a clue as to what they're _really_ thinking. Even if they're saying something completely different. Facial expressions never lie. 

The thing about humans is that something will give their true thoughts or feelings away somehow, no matter how hard they're trying. No one can hide the truth.

That includes John. Dorian will admit, that when they first met, John had been a blind spot for him. The human's body was always so stiff and tense that getting any read on his emotional state was actually quite a challenge for Dorian. Encyclopedia of the latest in body and facial expression hardwired into his brain be damned. John was difficult to gauge for a really long time. He kept his feelings buried so far that his face was blank and free of any micro _or_ macro expression, his body so controlled that he never gave anything away, and Dorian was left with having to go in blind when he interacted with the man.

Needless to say John has let him in a bit, and Dorian has learned to read John pretty well, so the expression on John's face before he fled the apartment didn't go over his head. 

A micro-expression.

 _Disgust_.

He almost wishes he hadn't seen it. That he never could read faces in the first place.

Yet another reason why being an android with higher capabilities was complicated and at times even...depressing. Dorian always sees things he wishes he didn't have to. Like parents who, according to the subtle lines of a sneer on their faces and rigid posture, obviously don't care about their children or find them to be a burden and a nuisance rather than little people that deserve love and affection, or the tense shoulders and curled lip of a man walking with his wife when his expression says that he would rather be anywhere else in the world than beside the woman he married. 

No one else sees things like that. But Dorian does. He's _forced_ to. He's forced to watch people silently hate each other while acting like they love each other. He's forced to see it all. 

It's like he's cursed. Created and welded together under some unlucky star. The metals of his body coated in ash before being placed in a being that had no _idea_ how much could go wrong in his very short life.

Which is a lot, he's learned.

Dorian's statistic readings of the situation tell him that there is a 3% chance that John is just now realizing that the DRN is soiled and used, and therefore has decided to leave.

It's a small percentage, but--

_what if that's it?_

In the back of his mind (along with the memory of what happened in the warehouse) the thought was always there. That one day, John wouldn't want to hold his hand or be next to him anymore. And how could the DRN blame him? He was an outmoded android with obsolete hardware _before_ , and now he's even _less_ valuable. The rare metal that makes up his spinal cord is worth more than the whole of him at this point.

But even with his doubts, as time has gone on, he thought maybe John meant it. About staying with him. And...being there.

He doesn't blame John, not at all, and he has no ill feelings toward him, because if he thinks Dorian is dirty and used, then he's right. Technically he _is_. He can't argue with logic, and logic dictates that a human with John's quality of life shouldn't be wasting time on an outmoded android who has caused him so much trouble to begin with.

It makes sense. Logically.

And maybe logic really is superior to emotion, because in the end, the MX's have won the trust from the public that the DRNs couldn't maintain.

And logically...Dorian just isn't worth John's time.

That doesn't stop the fact that Dorian feels like he's dying, sitting on John's bathroom floor.

He wishes he didn't see the disgust on John's face. He wishes more than anything in the world that he would have looked away a millisecond before he saw it, or that he would have been too preoccupied reading John's hormone levels to see it at all.

But he did.

And he has to face the hard truth.

He's had to face a _lot_ of hard truths lately.

There's always the option of going to Rudy and asking to be deactivated. He could. And Rudy probably would do it, if that's what Dorian wished. It would make everything stop. He wouldn't have to deal with anything else. No more memories or phantom feelings that confuse his processors but stir his emotions into kicking in and making him anxious and afraid. No more therapy. No more hiding. No more burdening John. No more anxiety or panic. No more fear.

He'd just blink out like a light. Simple. Quick. Definite. John wouldn't have to stress himself out of spread himself so thin trying to help him anymore.

It would be a _joy_ to stop being a burden.

It's a solid plan, and yet...

He was tasked with protecting his partner, a human officer. He's failed at everything else, and he's pretty much pathetic, but he can still protect John one last time.

He can still do his _job_ one last time.

So whether John wants to see his face or not, he has to find him and make sure he's okay.

Dorian hasn't been connected to the police database in a while, and he can't go online now, or someone could trace him to John's home. So he does the only thing he can do.

He calls Richard.

~

Richard likes to think that very few things surprise him at this point. He likes to think he's seen it all. He likes to think that he is prepared for whatever comes his way and that he's pretty much used to rolling with the punches, but when his cell buzzes and lights up, he pretty much expected anyone _but_ Dorian.

Doesn't stop him from quickly picking up on the first ring, though.

As soon as the line opens and before he can say a goddamn thing, Dorian is talking a mile a minute and Richard stands there, in the middle of the precinct, with what he knows is the dumbest look on his face. Mouth open, brow furrowed.

He does that. Valerie tells him all the time. 

"Whoa, whoa, Dorian." he says when his higher brain function comes back, "Stop. Hold up. I'm human, remember? Take it slow. What's wrong?"

Dorian explains, Richard swears and finds Valerie.

~

"We have to find John."

"We will, Dorian, but please just sit dow-"

"We have to find him."

"I know, I know, but Dorian-"

"He's out there-"

"Dorian."

"And he's not _well_ -"

" _Dorian_." Valerie says firmly, and the DRN stops rambling long enough to give her a withering look. 

They're standing by the dining room table, Valerie crossing her arms and Dorian trying not to do something completely useless, like cry.

"We are going to find him, okay?" she says softly, "But you need to keep calm. You're not in any state to be stressing yourself out-"

"This isn't about me!" Dorian wails, throwing his hands up in the air, "Can we _not_ focus on me for _three_ seconds please? John is-"

"Stop it." Valerie snaps, and Dorian's mouth snaps shut as his eyes widen, because Valerie _never_ snaps. _Ever_. She's the same woman who witnesses the horrors of the world with the cool detachment that most people could only dream of. She doesn't _snap_.

Except she just did.

"You two, I _swear_." she says, frowning, her eyes narrowed, "You two have no concept of balance, I swear to God. You're hurt so John neglects _himself,_ now John's hurt and you're about to do the same thing. _Jesus._ "

Dorian frowns, "That doesn't change the fact that he needs our help, Detective Stahl, and _fast_."

"I know that. And we're going to find him. And he's going to be _fine_ , but we have to do this in a way that doesn't trigger _you_ as well. And going on a wild goose chase through the entire city may do just that." Valerie sighs, "So we have to do this safely. We can't hurt you in order to help him. We find and help John, and protect you too. That's how it works. That's what he would want." she turns and looks out the window at Richard, who is talking on the phone with a look of concentration on his face, "And quit it with the 'Detective Stahl' crap. Call me Valerie, or Val." she looks back at Dorian, and the look on her face is back to the usual cool, friendly stare he's used to seeing, but this time with a wide and genuine smile. She leans on the table, "We're  _friends_ , Dorian. No need to be so formal."

Dorian blinks. He wasn't expecting...that.

He should have expected no less from Valerie though. She'd never treated him as anything less than a friend. As much as a friend as someone like Valerie could have, anyway. The woman is very friendly and overwhelmingly charming, but there's still so much about her that he's sure that even Richard doesn't know. He has a feeling that she hand picks what people see of her, and leaves out the rest. Her cool demeanor and easy smile are difficult for him to read, but then again, chromes always are. He has no doubt that she is being completely truthful about them being friends, he just knows that friends are a different sort of thing to her than to most people. Things are different for her. In every way.

Valerie is truthful about everything she says, but some things just mean different things entirely to her than they do to ordinary humans.

Maybe that's why chromes form their own little societies and separate themselves, he wonders. No one understands them but each other.

But Valerie chose to be a fish out of water.

And that's what she is.

A bit like himself, Dorian thinks. They're both pretty far removed from humanity in some ways. Dorian because of his lack of an organic and biological makeup, and Valerie because she was literally engineered.

They both were. Both with hand-picked traits and abilities. Both of their lives planned out for them without their input.

Dorian never really considered the concept of friends. Well, he _has_ , but not in the sense of having friends _himself_. It was just...never on his mind, really. He craves human connection and communication, but...he never considered having his own circle of people. People he could talk to about non work related things or call and talk on the phone to for hours. People to laugh with. It was always work or Rudy. And Rudy is only his friend because he has to operate on Dorian's insides every now and again, and it would be odd if they never talked. And everyone at the precinct is a coworker.

And before all of this, John was just classified as 'partner'.

He's never considered having friends. It occurs to him that he never thought he _could_.

He didn't really think anyone would _want_ to be his friend. And that's fine, he guesses, because honestly, humans can't seem to remove that fact that he's slightly different from them from their minds long enough to not subtly insult him in casual conversation. That's if they talk to him at all without talking past him and talking to John like he isn't even there. How many times has he asked a witness a question only to have them not even spare a glance at him but answer John instead? Or ignore him altogether?

So yeah, Dorian never considered he _could_ have friends. And sure it hurt a little (a lot), but he was a robot. He can't have a lot of things he wants. Like a space to call his own and the choice to go to a movie or the aquarium. Or even a day off or something.

He can barely have things he _needs_.

He's a lot like an organism in a petri dish. There to be stared at and put under a microscope as he does his job but nothing more.

 _Property of the police department_. That's what it says on the tag of his DRN standard issued jacket. It's a branding. Woven into his uniform like he could ever forget. Like anyone would ever let him forget what his place in life was.

But Valerie called him her friend. And she _meant_ it.

"Okay, Valerie." he says, his voice soft.

She smiles, "And friends help friends, so that's what we're going to do."

And before Dorian can respond (or embarrass himself by tearing up or something), Richard busts back into the room, his face a mask of determination.

"I have Rudy cross checking all the cameras in the city looking for Kennex's car." he says, holding up the phone and placing it on the table between all of them, the phone line still connected to the tech who--according to the light clacking sounds emanating from the speaker--seems to be tapping away at a keyboard.

"The police department is still looking for John." Valerie says, "So wherever he is, we have to retrieve him without being seen. As soon as they get wind of his location, or Dorian's, everything becomes more complicated. Dangerous, even."

"You hear that, Rudy?" Richard calls, sitting down at John's holo-screen and powering it up, "Keep this quiet."

"Ah, covert. Got it." the tech says from over the line.

Dorian fidgets, and can't help feeling like he should be _doing_ something. But without the police database at his fingertips, he can't seem to think of anything he can help with. He can't log in _now,_ because he knows as soon as he does they'll trace him, and by extension, find John somehow.

Valerie is typing away on her phone, fingers flying over the keys, and Richard is scowering the news to see if anyone has located John and reported it by now, and Dorian is...just standing there.

He endures for a few moments, and is about to ask what he can do, before Rudy's solemn voice comes over the line, "Detectives. I found him." 

Dorian jumps, and is ready to shout _'where?!'_ and hightail it out the door before Valerie picks up the phone, opens the surveillance footage Rudy sent, and projects the video. The angle is low enough to see into the car, and it seems to be one of the more seedy parts of the city. People bustle around the car, but no one pays any mind to the man in the car. They don't even look twice.

The hologram video clearly shows John.

Dorian's insides whir and dread makes a home in his middle.

John is gasping for air, his forehead on the steering wheel and his hands fisting and pulling at his t-shirt. He's shaking.

 _'Oh John'_  

Dorian nearly jumps a foot in the air when a man walks up to his partner's car door, and does something the camera can't quite catch before roughly entering the car, shoving the gasping, shaking body of his partner over to the passenger's seat and closing it. 

The camera is too low to capture John on video anymore, but when the man takes out a rag and a small bottle, Dorian doesn't have to wonder what's happening next. The man wets the rag, and leans over to John--

' _no...nonononodonttouchhimdonttouchhimdonttouchhim'_ \--

and the next thing the camera sees is John's unconscious body slumping over towards the driver's seat, before the thug roughly shoves him back to the other side of the car.

_'nonononono not John'_

Two more men enter, sitting in the back. And the car takes off.

With the detective knocked unconscious in the passenger's seat.

"That was...about 3 minutes ago." Rudy says quietly, "And those tattoos..."

"InSyndicate." Valerie whispers.

Dorian's world lurches violently and turns grey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An extra long chapter to say sorry for not uploading sooner. Eleven whole days without an update. God, I'm so sorry guys!! Been in a depressive slump lately. The honeymoon period on these antidepressants wore off. Ugh.
> 
> Anyway, I LOVED writing from Dorian's part of view. I love writing about what's going on his head and how he sees himself/his life/his coworkers.
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	40. Chapter 40

"And where are they now?" Valerie demands, her voice firm.

Dorian stands stock still.

They have John.

"I-I-" Rudy stutters over the line, Valerie's voice startling him.

" _Now_ , Rudy!" Richard snaps, tapping away on his phone.

They have John. The world has faded out, gone blurry at the edges, and all that runs through his mind is--

They have John.

"I-" Rudy chokes, "One second, I'll find him, I'll find him..."

Over and over again.

They have John.

The room is tense, and Valerie starts typing on her phone furiously.

They have John.

They have John.

They have John.

They have John.

Dorian is about to scream bloody murder before he hears his tinny voice call out from over the speaker.

" _Found him!_ The old sweets factory along the wall." Rudy says, his voice shaking.

The world snaps into focus.

"It's abandoned." the tech adds.

Dorian barely hears it because as soon as John's location is confirmed they're all hastily heading for the door. Richard throws Valerie the keys and gets in the passenger seat, Dorian ducks into the back and tries not to have a breakdown and buckle under the weight of yet another anxiety inducing situation, and Valerie hops in the front, sticks the key in the ignition and tears our of the parking space with a deafening screech.

The Wall isn't far, so the factory isn't either, but it's enough time for Dorian to sit in the back seat of the car and feel his resolve slipping. He bites his tongue and tries to hold it together and not think about how _this is all too much too fast and--_

Somewhere along the sharp turns and the dizzying sights of the scenery outside the window speeding by so fast (and damn, Valerie can _drive_ ) Dorian hears a clipped, "I messaged my MX to meet us at the factory." from Richard, "We won't have help. No backup." he looks back at Dorian in the back as Valerie makes another sharp turn (and how have they not hit another car yet? They have to be at _least_ five times over the speed limit. Dorian would check...if it actually fucking mattered. It doesn't. Only John matters), "It's just us." he adds gravely.

Valerie glances at him and swerves, "My MX will be there too. We're all we have but we'll make it work. After all," Dorian can see her smirk, "We're the best detectives this city has to offer."

Richard balks, "I don't know if that makes me feel better."

"No time to find out." She replies, rounding the back of factory surprisingly quietly--given how fast she was driving--, unlocking the door and stepping out.

They're far enough that no one should know they're there, and it's only when Dorian sees Richard draw his gun and step out of the car that he realizes he has _no_ idea what he thought he would do once he got there. He exits the car, and tries to push the fear cloying at his throat down long enough to pay attention to the heat signatures inside. The area is...disgusting, to say the least. Garbage piled along the fence, and it's looks more like a large alley than the back of a once successful factory. It's grey and the bricks are covered in soot and grime, and it's obvious that no one thought to utilize the building when it was abandoned. 

Probably because it looks awful, Dorian thinks, and anyone will any self-preservation skills would turn tail and run.

Dorian feels the fear bubbling up. This place...is dark. And the people inside--

The last time he was in a large, abandoned area was when--

No.

John is in there. John is in there and he's hurt and probably terrified--

"There are 9 people inside." Dorian offers, trying to make himself useful, "One of them has an irregular heartbeat and labored breathing." he bites the inside of his mouth and clenches his eyes shut, "It's John."

"Shit, eight of them?" Richard whispers, "And there's only three of us. Amazing." 

Dorian is about to inquire as to why he said three (seeing as Dorian himself is about as useful as tissue paper and really shouldn't be counted) but is cut off when he hears Valerie say, "Actually, there's five." smugly, turning her head and gesturing to the two MX units walking up to them stiffly.

Dorian shifts. John is in there. John is in there and he can't help. He doesn't even have a _gun_. John took it from him after the pet store incident, and he hasn't seen it since. He's panicking and he can't even make himself useful to get his mind off of the fact that _they're in there and what if it's them what if he has to see them again what if it's them what if its them what if its them--_

He's useless.

Twitchy and panicked and borderline hysterical and ready to break at the drop of a pin.

John deserves better.

"Detective Stahl." one of the MXs drones.

"Hello Max." she smiles, "We need some help--"

"I assume you intend to rescue Detective Kennex, as he is inside the factory." the MX says.

"Yep." Valerie quips.

"I will notify the Police Department and request backup--"

"No, no! Max!" Valerie says hastily as the bot's face starts to light up with streaks of red. Her MX stops and looks at her, and Dorian think he almost looks...confused?

"I do not understan--"

"This is a private matter." Valerie says, "No police."

"Detective Stahl," her MX starts, "but you are the police."

Dorian blinks. Did her MX (Max, was it?, Dorian thinks) just...sass her?

Valerie smiles, unperturbed, "You know what I mean."

Max looks at her, and manages a stiff nod. 

Dorian notices Richard and his MX conversing quietly a few feet away, and he can't help but notice that Richard's MX looks completely interested with what he has to say. He looks like he hears and understands but not in the basic and logical sense that they usually do. He sees...something else there too.

He doesn't have much time to ponder that though, because suddenly Richard has rejoined them, his MX trailing behind.

"Eli says the only way in is through the back. Chances are when we get in we'll lose the element of surprise, but if we split up we should be able to take them all out. They're on all sides. A few well aimed shots--" Richard says, trailing of with a shrug. 

"Got it." Valerie nods.

"The MXs take the points closest to them and we stay a little bit behind them to take out who we can." Richard adds.

"We don't know the layout of the building inside, and Max can't get a read on the walls or layout because of the lack of electricity in the building, so in terms of cover, we'll have to improvise." Valerie says, checking to see if her gun is loaded, "We go in on my mark."

Richard nods, the MXs look at her blankly, and Dorian shrinks into his sweater. He has no idea what he can do. And he has to do _something_. _John_ is in there. If he was in there John would raise hell. He can't just stay out here--

"Hey," Richard says, and Dorian snaps out of his panicked haze quick enough to see the gun that Richard is offering. He moves to take it, but the human yanks it out of his reach before he can get a hold of it.

"I'm trusting you with this." Richard says pointedly, and Dorian has no idea what to say, but he's getting annoyed. They should be rescuing John--

"Hey, focus." Richard says, and the DRN snaps into focus again. "I need to know, before I give this to you," Richard says slowly, "That when this is all over, you won't turn this on yourself."

"What?" Dorian replies impatiently. They don't have _time_ for this. He doesn't want to go in there, he really _doesn't_ , he's terrified and everything about this serves to remind him about the warehouse and he feels like if he thinks about it he'll start screaming, but John. John needs him. He's caused him so much trouble, the least he can do is show up when the human really needs him. Like now.

Behind Richard's head he can see Valerie and the two MXs movie towards the dark, rusty metal of the back door, their stances crouched and their weapons drawn.

"I need you to promise me that you won't aim this weapon," Richard says firmly, "at yourself."

Dorian balks. He feels uncomfortable knowing that this is even an issue. But then again it's his own fault. Everyone thought that DRNs were crazy before, how much more an emotionally compromised, self-hating, and traumatized one?

Dorian nods.

"Say it."

"I won't."

"You won't what?"

"We don't have time for this!" 

"You. Won't. What."

"Aim this weapon at myself." 

Richard looks at him warily, but slowly hands him the gun and just as Dorian feels the weight in his hands, Richard has moved to join the others at the door.

Dorian pushes down the blinding fear because suddenly he's here and holding a gun and people are counting on him John is counting on him this is too much too fast--

He moves towards the door and refuses to jump when Valerie kicks it open. And suddenly it's _gunfire_ and _smoke_ and Valerie pulling him behind a barrel he didn't even know was there. Shouts and screams and he doesn't know whose side they belong to. Now that he can see and process the inside of the place he sees that it's even more disgusting than the back of it. Same type of grime, filth and dirt. Just...more. And on top of being oddly damp and grimy in some places, it's downright dusty everywhere else. 

He bites the inside of his mouth, trying to calm himself (and ultimately, failing, seeing as his energy levels are spiking) before he looks around the barrel.

Gang tattoos on paling, dying skin. He doesn't look at the faces. He _can't_. Not yet.

Five of the men are dead.

But that's not who Dorian's eyes catch and refuse to leave.

John. Tied to a chair, a bruise decorating his cheekbone, bound and gagged and...looking pissed as hell, actually.

And above the gunfire and the screams, Dorian's tension lessens just a the tiniest bit. John is okay. He'll be okay. 

He'll be okay.

He'll be okay.

He's alive.

He'll be okay.

Dorian aims the gun, and fires.

A body drops. 

Richard moves out of the corner of his eye, and Dorian catches the detective fire once and grin when another one drops dead, his semi-automatic dropping from his hands.

And then there's two.

And then there's none.

The gunfire ceases, and Valerie sighs and smiles, Richard sighs and frowns, the MXs holster their weapons.

The entire thing only took about 35 seconds, Dorian realizes. He has the precise time stamped down to the millisecond, but he doesn't look at it. He doesn't care.

It feels like a lifetime.

John makes a muffled sound, and the MXs move to assist him, but Dorian stands and drops the firearm before running to John and untying the ropes. His fingers shake and he knows his face is lighting up and giving away his frantic train of thought, and it isn't until he takes the gag out of John's mouth that he realizes the man has been trying to say his name around the cloth. Dorian doesn't hear it though, because he's scanning him and taking his pulse and checking his heartbeat and drawing up statistics on health and recovery for a bruised cheek and ribs. _Does John need a doctor is John going to die no John can't die is John okay he needs to be okay please let him be okay please i love him i love him i love him--_

"Dorian."

The sound is raspy and tired, but it snaps him out of it. John.

He looks a little worse for wear, but he grins and stands albeit--a bit shakily--and looks the DRN in the eye.

And it's like life fills Dorian again. The world exploding in color and sound.

"John!" he sobs, throwing himself at the other man, wrapping his arms around his neck and hugging him so tight and _oh god he never wants to let go--_

"Hey. It's okay." the human croaks around a smile, wrapping his arms around Dorian's waist, shoving his face into Dorian's neck. The DRN shakes, but for a completely different reason, his hands finding John's hair and wrapping him in his arms tighter.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt, do you need--" Dorian starts, hugging John tighter, minding his ribs.

"Hey, _hey_." John says, the grittiness in his voice evening out, "I'm fine. It's okay. I'm okay." and with that, John pulls his upper body from Dorian's and looks him in the eye. John sighs, but can't seem to wipe the small smile from his face. Dorian's here. He came for him. He's not surprised, but he's shaky and relieved and Dorian's eyes are huge and his face is lighting up like a damn pinball machine, "Hey," John says, looking into his eyes, hazel meeting blue, "I'm fine. Don't worry. Please."

Dorian doesn't loosen his hold on the human any, and John is grateful because he isn't ready to let his partner go any time soon either, but he nods shakily before his eyes take on a defeated look, "Your cheek..." Dorian says, and John scoffs.

"A bruise. Had those before. It'll be gone by next week, trust me." he reassures his partner, and he's glad to see it's working. 

John knows how they look standing there holding each other, Dorian's hands in his hair and John's arms around his waist, their bodies pressed together and their eyes staring into the others, no space at all between them.

He doesn't care.

Because yeah, he told Dorian he was fine, and he is, but he needs this.

He thought he was going to die. He thought they would put a bullet in his head or actually take his head off (he doesn't doubt that they'd make good on their threat), and he is just...relieved. And he knows he'll be in shock at some point, and he'll have a (probably really embarrassing) reaction to all of this later on when it really hits him, but for now he's happy to be safe.

So he needs this. 

He needs Dorian in close proximity, holding him. He needs to hear his voice. He needs to see those lights on his face.

He needs the kind of comfort that only his partner can provide. 

And when Dorian ends up inching forward and kissing him, the action full of fear, relief, and desperation, John tightens his hold and presses himself closer to him.

Fuck his bruised ribs, seriously. Injuries be damned.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, 40 chapters. I have no idea how long this is going to be, but I know what's going to happen, it's just a matter or writing it so that it flows and doesn't feel rushed just because I have the ending.
> 
> Anyway, sorry this story is so damn long. I really tend to get deep into...everything when I write. Oops.
> 
> Also, yay for robocop kisses!


	41. Chapter 41

"Alright, lovebirds," Richard interrupts, looking around warily, "We have to go. Now. Because I'm pretty sure _something_ is coming, and while this little venture of ours proved that we are incredibly lucky, we _really_ shouldn't push it."

"He's right, it looked like they were waiting for someone, which is why they had John restrained and didn't harm him further." Valerie says, smiling at the scene in front of her, "So we should be gone when whoever comes, _actually_ comes."

John sighs and separates from his partner, but takes Dorian's hand and leads him out of the factory the same way he saw them come in, Richard and Valerie falling in step behind them, followed by their MXs.

John wonders what's going through their heads regarding what they've just seen. He can't find it in it him to care too much. There are bigger things to worry about, and that shock seems to be getting to him now. One would think that a cop--having been in life or death situations before--would have a better handle on everything after yet another one, but John never quite conformed to the norm, so here he is, clutching his partner's hand and barreling out the door because he needs to get the _hell_ out of there.

~

The ride back is quiet.

Not uncomfortably so, but the kind of quiet that's charged with the sort of energy where everyone can tell something is going to happen rather soon. Valerie drives back, slower this time, and John notes that she's taken the precaution of winding through a few back roads and circling through the same streets a few times just to insure that no one is following them back to John's home.

He appreciates it.

Dorian looks out of the window next to him, and John doesn't need to see the blue lights on his partner's face to know that he's monitoring John's vitals. Before...all of this, it felt intrusive and annoying, like Dorian was poking his head where it didn't belong, but now it's comforting. Someone he trusts will know when he's unwell or in danger.

It's _nice_.

Halfway through the drive his leg starts beeping at him, and he can see the familiar, beaming red light that indicates an error faintly through his pants leg. Before he can muster up the strength to become both embarrassed _and_ frustrated, he catches sight of Dorian's face streaking with blue, and the beeping ceases abruptly, the flashing light disappearing. The DRN turns to flash him a small smile, and John returns it, feeling a sudden overflowing of fondness for his partner. Dorian looks back out the window, and John looks toward Richard and Valerie up front only to see that they weren't paying John's beeping leg any kind of attention, because they both look lost in their own thoughts.

He doesn't notice when they pull up to his house until Dorian gently tugs him out of the car, looking at him intently like he's trying to gauge whether or not he's in pain and if he should started panicking again. John squeezes his hand and whispers, "I'm fine, it's okay." before he turns to Richard and Valerie.

He realizes he has no idea when their MX's departed. But at some point they did.

Maybe he's more out of it than he thought.

"We," John starts, looking at the two of them, "should have that meeting now."

He turns and walks into the house--hand still in Dorian's--and doesn't need to look back to know they're following him.

Dorian lets go of his hand, wandering into the apartment and out of sight. John engages the bio-lock on the door, and Valerie sits down at John's table, looking at the man expectantly.

John paces for a moment, the room quiet.

"How did they find the therapist's office?" John deadpans, looking at Richard, "They found us there, reporters, cameramen, InSyndicate, everyone. How did they know--"

"How the hell should I know?" he responds defensively, "You think I had something to do with that?" 

" _No_ ," John answers, "I trust _you_ , but that's still a question that needs to be answered. Because if they found us there they may be able to find us _anywhere_.", he pauses and takes a breath, "Richard...do you have _any_ sort of feeling that the therapist could have--"

Richard relaxes a bit, but shakes his head, "No. She wouldn't. I know her. She isn't capable of this, John. Trust me." he folds his arms, "I am sorry about that. I figured the office, at least, was secure, since it's so out if the way of any place you would be expected to be but--"

"It wasn't your fault. No need to waste your breath apologizing." John says, looking him in the eye. The man relaxes and gives a small nod, sitting down at the table.

"It may have been a good thing." Valerie cuts in, looking between them both.

John bristles, "How could that possibly have been a good thing?"

Valerie looks at him like he's just asked if the sky was blue, "Have you been in touch with the news, or...the outside world, at all?"

John shakes his head, "No. I don't want to know what they're saying," he glances toward the kitchen and lowers his voice a bit, "and Dorian really doesn't need to hear any of it either."

Valerie looks toward Dorian moving around the kitchen and nods in understanding after a moment, "Okay, well. The fact that people saw such a raw, genuine and relatable show of emotion from Dorian is really helping your case."

John blinks, "What?"

Valerie looks at him imploringly, "Well, since we're trying to make it impossible for the board to decommission him for fear of the public outrage it could spark among the citizens," she explains, "the fact that they saw and filmed such a human reaction to the crowd closing in on Dorian means that more people will be able to see that he does indeed have feelings, thus they will subconsciously be more aware and care more about what happens to him."

"We're not saying we _like_ the fact that Dorian was terrified," Richard says when he sees John tense, "we're saying that a shit situation ended up helping us a bit. People saw that he was startled and afraid. The average human is highly empathetic, and they're responding to that. John, you should see what they're saying. They're calling the reporters out for being intrusive, abrasive and frightening. They're angry at _humans_ for scaring Dorian. Do you know how _huge_ this is? There are people on his side."

"Plus," Valerie adds with a small smirk and a wink, "You look pretty heroic, shielding him from the crowd. The pictures make you look pretty intimidating and striking. Like the hero on the cover of a romance novel."

John rolls his eyes and tries to hold back a small smile, "I'm not even going to _acknowledge_ that comparison, Val. What do we do now?"

"Well," Richard starts, "Another interview would be helpful, I think."

"Okay," John says, leaning forward and bracing his hand on the table, "When?"

"As soon as possible." Valerie says, "We could--"

"No." Dorian's voice cuts through the room, and they all turn and look at the DRN startled. He stands by the door, and John only notices how filthy they all are from the factory when he sees the dust smeared on his partners cheek and sweater.

"Dorian--", John starts.

"John isn't psychically up for anything that's not food and sleep--" Dorian starts.

"I'm fine, D." John assures him.

"Are you?" Dorian says, "Because your blood pressure is at an all time low, you're sleep deprived and that's also effecting your immune system because your melatonin levels have plummeted, not to mention the fact that you're anxiety ridden enough due to what's happened and what's going on."

"Dorian, seriously," John urges, "I'm _okay_."

"No, you're one missed meal away from passing out where you stand." Dorian says flatly.

"Seriously--"

"You had _two_ panic attacks in one day, John." Dorian says desperately, "Your epinephrine levels are abnormally high. You need to sleep and calm down. Not pile on more stress."

"This _needs_ to be done, Dorian." John says, "I have to."

"Are you really going to make me watch you tear yourself to pieces?" Dorian says quietly, "Over me? Over _this_?"

"It's worth it." John answers slowly, "I _told_ you I'd fix this. That's what I'm going to do."

Dorian looks at him, at a loss for words, and John refuses to give in, no matter how upset Dorian looks. He has to do this. He can't stop helping Dorian, even at Dorian's own request.

They stand there looking at each other in silence--John looking apologetic and Dorian looking defeated--before Richard cuts in.

"You two are like my parents." he says moodily, "Enough with the melodrama. We can compromise, okay?"

Dorian breaks eyes contact first, "In what way?"

"John does an interview," Richard starts, and holds up a hand as Dorian opens his mouth to protest, "And Valerie and I do the rest."

John finally tears his eyes from his partner, "Will that have the same effect?"

"Actually," Valerie says, brows furrowed in thought, "That's brilliant. If you're the only one saying anything, it could be said that you can't be trusted because you're biased. You work with Dorian and seem to like him quite a bit." she smirks, "If we do a few as his coworkers, it'll really round out how important Dorian is, and how much others like him, not just you."

John nods, processing their words, "That's...great, actually. I like that idea."

Valerie shrugs, "I mean, and it _is_ the truth. Everyone likes Dorian when they meet him." she says, smiling at the DRN standing a few feet away.

Dorian fidgets, his temples flashing blue to process the information. He knew people tolerated him, and that some were even okay with a DRN wandering around, but he didn't really know that people made a conscious decision to like him. He's simply never thought about it before.

"And I'm sure we can get some other cops to do something,", Richard adds," if we can find out which precincts they've been placed in when we got scattered after ours went down."

"I'll take care of that." Valerie says, standing up and stretching, "I'm sure I can find them. We should head out. We have a lot of work to do, and honestly I could use a shower. I'm covered in dust."

"I'll set up the interview." Richard says, yawning and rising to his feet, "I'll give you the details whenever I have them."

John nods, and he doesn't quite know how to thank them. There's a reason John's not a poet. Words fail him and they stick in his throat, but Valerie puts a hand on his shoulder as she walks past him, and Richard gives a knowing nod in his direction. They understand. It doesn't need to be said. 

John turns around in time to see Valerie approach Dorian and softly ask, "Can I hug you?" before the DRN blinks owlishly and nods, slightly surprised. Valerie hugs him tight and says, "We're happy to help." when Dorian tries to stutter out a thank you.

She pulls back a bit, "Everything is going to be alright, okay?" she says, looking Dorian right in the eye. John watches his partner nod--eyes wide--and Valerie give him one more reassuring squeeze before she heads toward the door.

"See you, Dorian." Richard calls, looking back.

"Bye, Richard." Dorian says quietly.

The door closes and once John reengages the bio-lock he turns to his partner.

"I don't mean to worry you, you know that right?"

Dorian takes a few moments to answer.

"Yes, but--I just don't want your health to fail because of--"

"Hey, hey." John says, walking up him, "I'm fine. I'll be fine." he looks his partner in the eyes, "We'll both be fine."

 ~

When they're clean and dressed again, John tries to sit still on the couch while Dorian scans his ribs.

"It's only bruised," Dorian says miserably, "but as long as you don't take any punches there, it will heal on its own rather quickly."

"See?" John smirks, " _Fine_."

"And _bruised_." Dorian replies, looking at him pointedly, "Does it hurt?"

"Not really." John tells him.

Dorian nods and they're silent for a moment until John speaks up.

"Dorian...about this morning--"

"If you don't want me touching you anymore it's fine, John. Just tell me." Dorian says evenly, inching away from the human on the couch.

"Why would you--" John starts, "That's not...that wasn't the problem, Dorian. I have no problem with you touching me, it's just--"

"You looked disgusted before you ran out." the DRN says, "When you pulled your hands away? I thought--"

"No, no. God, no." John says quickly, "That wasn't directed at you, I swear."

Dorian blinks, "Oh."

John turns to look at him, and is almost afraid to ask, "What did you think it was?"

Dorian fidgets, a habit John has noticed the DRN indulging in more and more these days, before he says, "It's not important."

"Dorian..."

"I surmised that...you..." Dorian starts, before he shakes his head, "It's really not important, John. Honestly."

John looks at him and decides to drop it. If Dorian doesn't want to talk about it, he won't try to force him to.

"So what happened?" Dorian asks quietly, "This morning?"

John inhales then sighs, "I-ah...would rather not talk about it." 

He figures they're dealt with enough tough stuff today, and he doesn't think they need to end the day on an awkward or tense note. He doesn't think either of them could handle it.

Dorian's eyes search his face, "Okay."

They sit in silence for a while, looking at each other like if they stare long enough they'll be able to convince themselves that the other is okay, that the sky isn't falling. 

In the end, it's Dorian who hesitantly bridges the gap, shuffling closer and softly touching John's cheek like he's trying to reassure himself that John is there, John is alive and fine-- 

The kiss is no surprise. And John's eager response doesn't surprise him either.

Yeah, maybe he is feeling a bit fragile from being kidnapped today, and he'd like Dorian as close as possible.

Sue him.

The DRN shifts closer and John opens his arms to him, all other thoughts leaving his mind as Dorian straddles him and softly bites at his lip, relief and desperation winning out against caution and taking anything slow.

John knows he's scanning him, because he pulls away exactly when John needs air. He makes a noise of protest when Dorian pulls his face away, and his hands fall into place on Dorian's hips like they're always meant to be there. John closes the gap again, kissing him and pulling him close, feeling his partner's fingers skim across his stomach under his shirt. John does the same, his hands finding their way under the sweater Dorian is wearing, and when the bot gasps against his lips, John pushes past teeth to taste his partner's mouth, every kiss laced with something like relief. Dorian pushes closer, his hands in John's hair.

"I almost lost you today." he gasps, and John answers him by kissing him deeper. He has nothing to say, and relies on touches to reassure him that he's here, and yeah, he _could_ have lost him today, but he _didn't_. 

They pull each other closer, and Dorian abandons John's lips to kiss his neck, his eyelashes grazing against the soft flesh there, feather light. That, along with the feeling of his partners lips gently pressing against the skin there makes John more than a little dizzy.

He's hard as a rock and can hardly think straight. At some point his hands land on his partner's ass, and Dorian's hands end up gently squeezing John through his pants, and if they're moving too fast neither of them say so.

His breath stutters and Dorian palms him through his pants again, no doubt gauging the human's reaction.

"D-Dorian." John gasps, "You know you don't h-have to--if you're uncomfortable...", he trails off with a moan.

He can hardly string a sentence together. This is what his partner does to him and _fuck, it feels good to have his body flush against his--_

"I'm not," Dorian says softly, between wet kisses, "I want to make you feel good, John. Am I doing it right?"

John groans, the steady throbbing between his legs becoming harder to ignore. He stutters out a laugh, "I- _fuck_ , I would say so, yeah."

Dorian hums against his lips, and John has to stop himself from pinning his partner to the couch when he feels Dorian pulling down his zipper and tracing his length through his underwear. His partner tastes his tongue and slips his hand past the remaining fabric.

The feeling of Dorian touching him is better than he'd imagined, and between soft lips, the fact that John can feel his body pressing so close, and Dorian's fingers wrapping around him, he's sure he isn't going to last long. 

He gives John an experimental stroke, and he breaks the kiss to look at him carefully, "Am I doing it right?"

John bites his lip, nods and tries not to shift his hips up into his partner's hand. He's dimly aware that they've breached new territory, and that one wrong move could ruin this moment and startle Dorian altogether, and possibly set them about a million steps back, so he tries his damnedest to stay still. His partner tilts his head, looking in his eyes, and strokes him again, placing his free hand on the human's chest that's rapidly rising and falling.

John's breath hitches, and he tries to bite down the desperate noise that rises up in his throat. He closes his eyes for half a second, and sighs when he feels Dorian's lips on his neck again, kissing softly and stroking him.

John squeezes Dorian's ass and tries not to lose it a his partner wrings moans and whimpers out of him, a thumb running over the head of his cock or a subtle graze of teeth on his neck. He gasps out a warning before he comes, and Dorian's hand moves off of him just in time, and he opts to hide his face in the crook of John's neck as John shakes through his orgasm.

 _Fuck_.

"You okay?" John asks once he gets his breath back. Dorian lifts his head and nods, looking slightly embarrassed before he mumbles, "I just--I didn't want any of it to get on me."

John blames the fact that he's just had the most mind-blowing orgasm for how long it takes him to _actually_ get what Dorian is saying.

Semen.

Of course, how could he fucking forget how he found him in that warehouse--

Of _fucking_ course he would have an aversion to--

John is so _stupid_.

"John?"

He snaps out of his thoughts and looks at his partner and he's sure that Dorian can probably _see_ the dark cloud forming over his head.

"Stop it." Dorian says firmly, "Don't think so hard you ruin it."

His eyes search Dorian's face for any sign of discomfort he may be trying to hide for John's sake, but he finds none so he nods, trusting his partner, and leans his head back on the couch, relaxation and exhaustion warring for control of his body.

"Don't you need to charge?" he asks, and Dorian shrugs, hiding his face in John's neck again. The human runs a hand through the short curls at the nape of the DRN's neck.

"I will need to soon." he mumbles.

John nods, content to sit there until they both deem it time to move. However long that may be.

"But I think _you_ should sleep in your bed." Dorian says quietly.

John sighs, "Dorian, the bed is yours, we talked about this--"

"With me."

John freezes for a moment, his mind processing what he's just heard.

"Dorian..."

"Please?" he asks, voice nearly inaudible and muffled in John's neck.

John runs his hands through those curls again.

"Okay."

~

It's surprisingly easy to adjust to, sharing a bed with someone, and John's heart stutters when Dorian curls around him and pillows his head on John's chest.

He wraps an arm around the DRN and falls asleep to blue lights and the hum of the charger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever and I have no idea why. Lol.


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things that need to be said are said.

John, for _some_ reason (maybe God hates him, he's not sure--actually yeah, he _is_ sure, and he does. If he even exists. The bastard.), manages to silently fucking lose it in the bathroom the next morning.

Waking up next to Dorian was...amazing. Waking up and looking down to see his partner's curly head rested on his chest is the best gift he's been given in a _really_ long time, but as he untangled himself from his partner--who was still charging--and went to take the usual morning visit to the bathroom, the events of last night came crashing down, and he ends up standing in front of his sink, staring in the mirror as the water ran.

He stares at himself, his hair tousled from sleep and Dorian's hands, with come dried on his shirt. He looks down at it and hastily takes it off.

_"I just--didn't want any of it to get on me."_

That's what Dorian said, last night.

But--that's not it, not completely. 

John isn't as in touch with his own bank of feelings like most people are, but the sudden despair weighing on him catches him by surprise all the same. He looks in the mirror, at himself.

And it hits him.

What has happened...what has happened to Dorian--what has happened to him what with the raid that he's still struggling to recover from mentally...

It'll color his entire relationship with Dorian.

The fact that John has panic attacks and flashbacks, the fact that Dorian is still terrified of touch, loud noises, contact...

It'll influence their relationship. All of it. All of the shit they've been through, all of the shit they're going to go through...it will. It'll cast a shadow of darkness and sadness over them that no amount of soft kisses or 'I love you's' will fix.

And that's... _so fucking sad_.

Because no matter what, even if ( _when_ , John corrects himself, because he'd die before he lets them touch his partner...they'd run far away where no one would ever find them and they'd be safe...) their plan works and they save Dorian from decommission, take out InSyndicate and save the city...it'll never erase what happened.

It won't erase what happened to Dorian. He'll still be in pain and scared and John...doesn't know how to deal with that realization. He's been so dead-set on their plan and what they're going to do that he hasn't taken time to process that even if they win...they don't really win.

Even if they kill every single InSyndicate gang member, what happened in the warehouse still happened.

Dorian will still be afraid to be in enclosed spaces with others, still have that tremor in his voice, still won't be sure if he's worth it, still shrink when someone talks too loud. He'll still have the recorded memory. He'll still choose John's bigger clothes because he can't _bear_ anything else. He'll still be hurt. He'll still be afraid and distrustful. In pain.

They don't win.

Even after all of it.

They don't win.

They can't.

They've already lost the most important battle.

Even if everything goes according to plan, Dorian will still have to walk around with the _entire fucking city_ knowing about what happened to him. Knowing that everyone has witnessed the single worst event in his life and John lets out a defeated sob because _they've already lost_. Everything.

And then there's the ugly, dark thought that dwells in the back of his mind that _he_ sent Dorian after that gang member when the precinct went down. That he pushed his MX out of the car in the first place. That he basically forced Dorian to wake back up and live alongside him, therefore causing it all.

 _He_ sent Dorian to that warehouse. _Alone_. With no backup. Didn't even spare his partner a thought until Valerie called and told him he'd gone off the radar, and then even after that, his first emotions weren't even _concern_. It was _annoyance_. That he would have to help him. That he would have to help the partner who'd jumped in front of bullets for him, saved him, protected him all while John was being the worst he could possibly be because he didn't _know_ how to handle affection after going so long without it.

The same partner who trailed off when rattling off the details of a crime scene once because he'd seen a baby and he'd never seen one in person before because he'd been decommissioned before he could.

The same partner who made fun of his hair, his music collection and food choices, making him smile even when he acted like just the sound of Dorian's _voice_ annoyed him.

That partner. The one that he didn't consider _real_ until it was in his face and Dorian was broken, his soul crumbling between his fingers, bleeding faster than he could patch up the holes.

Finally acknowledging those thoughts breaks something in John. _It's rotting him from the inside. Has been the entire time. The hard truth, devouring and infecting his organs like gangrene. He'll burn from the inside out._

 _He_ did this. To Dorian. It was _him_. _He_ sent him there. The warehouse.

And he'll fucking burn in hell for it, he's sure.

It's where he belongs.

So it doesn't matter if they win. Because Dorian's soul is still fractured, mangled and bleeding and John isn't sure he even has one _himself_.

Because what was important--Dorian's feelings of safety and happiness, Dorian's fucking  _life_ \--has already been destroyed.

And he'd barely gotten to really _live_. 

And that one large and ugly fact cements it. They've lost the battle. The whole fucking _war_.

They lost at the very start.

John leans forward, holding the rim of the sink so tight his knuckles turn white. He looks at his reflection. Dark circles under his eyes. Sallow skin. Sharp cheekbones. He can see his veins through his eyelids.

They don't win.

They don't win.

They don't win.

No matter what. They don't win.

They don't win.

They don't win.

And that's what curls around John's brain and squeezes, and he doesn't really know when he started crying, or when the headache started pounding at his temples, but he notices everything at once when he feels a hand on his own, and between the panels of misery that wash over him, sees a glimpse of blue light.

It doesn't stop the tears, or the fact that his body is being racked with hoarse sobs that he wishes he could apologize for. He hunches over, and he feels arms around him but he can't move or open his eyes. He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to see anything.

And in that instance he...doesn't want to be _alive_. Just breathing in enough to continue his pathetic sobbing  _hurts_. 

The tears don't stop and Dorian doesn't leave, only managing to pull him to sit on the floor. He barely feels his body move, but he does feel Dorian's arms wrapping around him again. 

John knows he doesn't deserve it, but he clings to the DRN. John cries into his sweater.

He also wonders how Dorian can stand to touch him at all.

It's one word that does it. Dorian's soft "John", in that worried tone that he knows all too well is what launches him into a stream of guilt ridden, babbling confession. He blurts out everything on his mind, and he's not sure it makes any sense or if Dorian can even understand him. He's too afraid to move his head from the soft fabric of his partner's clothing.

He says it all. Everything he feels guilty of ( _'And oh God I sent you there, Dorian. I sent you there alone and with no backup and it's my fault. It's my fault. I did this. I'm so sorry. I should have told you to stay..'_ , ' _You helped me so quickly when you woke up, but it took me so long to help you because I'm the worst kind of person there is. I'm barely a fucking human and I--_ '),  and how even if they win, they...don't ( _'Nothing matters. It doesn't matter because what happened still happened and you're still hurt and the world is still fucked and you don't deserve this you don't deserve any of this but for some reason it's happening to you of all people and I couldn't stop it and I still can't', 'Nothing is the same and even though I love you I can still hurt you and I don't--I can't--I can't hurt you.', 'We were ruined from the start because us being together won't erase anything that's happened and I can't make it better in that way. I can't take away your memories, or the trauma or the pain and I just--')._

He says that and so much more because by the time he's running out of things to say, Dorian has gone quiet and John is waiting for him to tear himself away from him and leave.

What he doesn't expect is to have a hand cup his cheek and pull him from the safety of the fabric that he's drenched with tears, and moved to stare into two blue eyes.

"That's the most _ridiculous_ thing I've ever heard." Dorian says quietly.

John sniffles and blinks in surprise.

Dorian's jaw twitches, "Don't you fucking _dare_ , Kennex." he says, voice cracking in static, eyes tearing in anger, "Don't you _fucking_ dare."

He doesn't think he's heard Dorian curse before.

"I followed that suspect because I _wanted_ to. You hardly had a say in it and if you would have said no I _still_ would have gone. Protocols be _damned_. Because no one _controls_ me. I do what I see fit. I'm my own person." Dorian hisses, two tears making their way down his face, "Don't you _dare_ belittle my choices like that. Don't you fucking dare."

John blinks in shock.

Dorian looks away for a moment before he softly says, "Neither of us could have known what would happen. It wasn't your fault, John. None of this was. I can't--" he bites his lip, "I can't watch you tear yourself to pieces for me. I won't. I'd request decommission first. I can't watch that. _Please...please don't make me_. It would kill me.", he pauses to fight back more tears, "We're not ruined, John. Ruined means we can't be fixed and that nothing can get better. Ruined is _permanent_. We're broken. Yes, but anything broken can be fixed. We haven't lost. Maybe the battle, but the war? No. It _feels_ like we have. But John... _good things happen_." he says desperately, eyes wet, "Good things happen all the time. They may not be happening right now, but they will. The moment we stop believing that--"

Dorian blinks, more tears rolling down his face, "that's when we die. That's when they win. And we can't let them win, not after everything they've done...I don't need you to be Superman, John. I don't need you to not be sad or angry or frustrated with me sometimes. I don't need you to try to fix my head or take away the trauma. I don't need you to feel guilty over things that weren't your fault or to believe that we're doomed, our situation....or _us_. I just need you _here_. I just need you to listen and be there to hold my hand because _I need you_. I need you close and need to know that you love me because I love _you_. And I need you to tell me what _you_ need."

"Yes, what happened is going to shape our relationship. Events have an affect. But I need you to believe in me. I need you to believe that..." he blinks, looking down, crying silently before he looks back up at John, "I need you to believe that I won't always be like this." he says desperately, like he's trying to convince John that he's not hopeless, like he's trying to convince him to stay because _I'll get better please please please don't write me off--_ "That I won't always jump at sounds or be afraid to be touched. That I won't always be a _mess_. I need you to believe that you won't have to be so careful with me forever. _Please_ don't give up on me." he sobs," I need _you_ to believe that I'll be _okay,_ that I'll _survive_ this _,_  because _I_ need to believe I'll be okay...and if _you_ don't think I will, then...I-I won't be. I...I need you. And if one of us falls apart, we both do. And thinking that what we have is doomed because of what happened to me is the first step towards that."  

"We have to _heal_ , John. Not expect anything will get better right away because it _won't_. Very few things do. I just need to be here with you, and I need you here with me because I--" he angrily wipes away a tear only for another to roll down and take it's place, "I won't make it without you. I won't. It's sad, it's _devastating_ and it's screwed up but it's our _life_."

"You don't deserve this." John says, and he doesn't know why, after everything, that was the first thing out of his mouth, he has so many things to say, but all he can manage is, "I love you.", looking Dorian in the eye, "I love you and you don't deserve this."

And Dorian looks so sad that John can barely breathe--

"But it's what happened. And I feel like the world has ended too." Dorian says quietly, "Oftentimes it's too much. Sometimes I feel like I'll start crying and never stop. Or I'll scream until my vocal processors overheat and die out. Sometimes I feel like I'm worth less than nothing and that I'm soiled and disgusting and used. Ruined."

John's crippled heart breaks further, he imagines bits of ash flaking off of a mangled charred thing that used to beat, red with blood.

"But then you smile at me. Or hug me. Or take my hand." Dorian smiles sadly, "And it's _okay_. Every horrible thing is at bay. Outside of our world. Even if it's just for a little while."

John takes his hand slowly, locking their fingers together. 

"And I think that's the point." Dorian continues, still crying silently, "It's _bad_. And sometimes I think it's so bad I'll _die_. But eventually, the horrible black that hangs over us will fade to gray, then to something lighter. That it'll get easier. Maybe soon we'll be able to laugh for a little longer or be able to push what happened a little bit further from our minds each day. And that's what I have to believe. That's what I need you to believe. Because that's the way we make it. That's how we get through this and anything else. Bit by bit. Believing it'll get better."

John deflates--his shoulders slumping and his hanging down--and clutches Dorian's hand tighter. He doesn't know when they ended up with their legs tangled together and their faces so close, but they both tend to subconsciously gravitate towards each other.

"I need you, John." Dorian says, quiet, shaking voice cutting through the silence, "And I need you to take care of yourself. To let me take care of you. I need you to not feel guilty for things that had nothing to do with you. I need you to not bottle everything up inside, especially for my sake. I need you to tell me what you're feeling. I need you to let me take care of you. Please. I need you to let me love you and protect you like you do for me."

John takes a shuddering breath, wiping his eyes, and looks up. He lifts a hand and wipes at Dorian's wet face, looking his partner...his _other half_ in the eye.

He leans for a soft kiss, presses his head to Dorian's, clutching his hands and breathes, "Okay."

It feels like letting go.

There's so much more to say, but they just sit in a comfortable silence, heads together, fingers intertwined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cried so hard while writing this. Not sure why. That's never happened before. Something about John's guilt and Dorian's desperation got to me. I'm a bit rattled to be honest.


	43. Chapter 43

John is, in short, being smothered.

The shocking thing is he doesn't really _mind_.

Well, for things like Dorian constantly hovering and trying to feed him vegetables, he _does_ mind a _little_ bit (he fucking _hates_ broccoli, man. But Dorian keeps going on about fiber or something--) but he's not about to tell the fretting android that.

Since their talk three days ago, John has been scanned, fed, put to bed like a child, watched and scowled at when he walks around when he should be sitting down, and subject to frequent inspections of his bruised ribs.

Dorian acts like bruises can _kill_ him, and every assurance that he's fine only calms his partner for about 10 minutes until he's anxious again.

He loves the guy, _really_ , and he wants to give him peace of mind, _really_ , but he's really not used to being cared for this way and it's throwing him off. He's also feeling a bit claustrophobic. 

So when John winces when he settles on the couch and jostles his side and Dorian turns to looks at him with concern, he just pulls his partner towards him and tucks him under his arm as he continues the crappy action movie he's been watching.

"John?"

"Hm?"

"Your ribs--"

"Are fine."

"But--"

"Nope. They're fine. Trust me."

"But what if--"

"D, really. I'm fine."

"...your vitals _have_ improved."

"See?"

~

He always turns the television off when he gets up. It's a habit, because the less chance there is of it being on a channel he doesn't recognize, the less chance there is that the news will end up coming on and catching one of them by surprise.

Don't watch the news, that's their number one rule. Don't see what they're saying. Just plan. 

So when he comes back into the living room, his stomach drops to his feet because Dorian sits there, curled up on the couch, eyes wide, as the currents events flash in front of him.

It's footage of John firing his weapon into the thug's leg when they were ambushed out of the therapist's office. He looks absolutely _enraged_ , and he watches as he raises his gun, fires and then stalks toward the criminal as the crowd screams and scatters. The footage is shaky after that, and whoever is holding the camera flees right after, and it ends there.

He should turn this off. He should lunge for the remote right now.

He's frozen.

John blinks as the footage ends and the screen splits into three parts, three different people in business suits introducing themselves.

Oh _god_.

It's one of those split screen debates where they discuss the recent hot topic. These people are going to be picking apart Dorian's life and telling the world whether they think it's valuable or not. It's _barbaric_.

He should turn. They can't watch this. _Dorian_ can't watch this.

"Dorian." John croaks, "Can you...uh...maybe--you should--"

"Yes. I'll--I'll be in bed." Dorian says breathlessly, getting up and heading to the bedroom, sliding the door shut. He hears the charger start up and John lowers the volume on the television as he slowly sits on the couch. He doesn't know why he was expecting Dorian to protest, he doesn't want to be reminded that the world knows what happened to him, so of course he fled as soon as John suggested it.

He really shouldn't be watching this either. He should be switching it off to go curl up in bed with Dorian, warm and oblivious to what other's think. He should be falling asleep to soft, wet kisses and the hum of a charger.

But it's a known fact that John loves torturing himself. So he sits and doesn't change it. His stomach turns, and he blinks, biting the inside of his cheek.

His heart hammers.

The person on the first portion of the screen is a sour looking white man, the second a white woman and the third is a black man. Their names flashed across the screen, but John didn't catch it because that's when he sent Dorian away.

It's not like their names matter, anyway.

The television casts a white glow around the dark living room, and John sits motionless. He really, really, _really_ shouldn't be bothering with this--

But he can't look away.

"This footage is of Detective John Kennex, and it was taken about a week ago when he and his DRN partner were found outside of an office building." the woman says, "And I for one, think what he did was commendable."

"Commendable?" the white man--Mr. Lesilie, the screen says when it flashes his name again--"He opened fire into a group of civilians!"

"Well," the woman starts sarcastically, "I would think that Detective Kennex knows how to fire a gun and hit his target, Mr. Lesilie, seeing as he _is_ a detective and has an outstanding record and has been trained. Top of his class at the academy. If _you_ did such a thing, we would have reason to be afraid and suspicious because you are a politician and have no idea how to handle a weapon. Detective Kennex is trained and obviously can hit the target he intends to hit without any other casualties. As he did on the video just shown to us."

"And he did this for what?" Lesilie snaps, "For who? His _robot_ partner?"

"Yes." the black man pipes up, "And why shouldn't he?"

"Well, first of all," Lesilie spits, "It's a _robot_."

John's fists clench.

The black man's eyes narrow, "He's a _he_. This is why you never got the support of the people, Lesilie. You're _cold_."

Lesilie sputters, "My _career_ has nothing to do with the fact that this man is endangering _actual_ people for a _DRN_ , who, if I'm remembering correctly, is an obsolete and outdated model."

John has decided that if he ever comes face to face with that man he is punching him right in the nose. Or throat. Or both. Or just shooting him. The city would thank him. How _dare_ he? How dare he talk about about Dorian like his opinion _matters_? Why do they live in a world in which Dorian has to rely on stranger's opinions on him to be able to live another day? John scrubs a hand down his face. This is so _fucked_.

"So?" the woman--Senator Urie, when the television labels her again--says, "Have you even watched the footage? Have you seen his _face_? He's _terrified_. That reaction is too real and authentic for us to just not _care_ about this--" she checks her notes, "DRN-0167, or Dorian, as he's called. He was afraid, and everyone is seeing it. And it raises questions. As it should."

"What questions could it possibly raise?" Lesilie hisses, "It's metal and silicon. It has fake emotions."

" _That,_ " the black man--Senator Reynolds, John reads--says, "--what we saw? His expression when they were being yelled at and surrounded? Him grabbing Kennex's jacket in panic and fear? Subconsciously seeking protection from someone he trusted, his partner? Those are not the expressions or actions of someone _faking_ , Lesilie. That was terror. And people are sympathizing. And how can you not? Who's the say that what this DRN is feeling isn't authentic? They're real to him, therefore they're _real_. And honestly, that's enough for me."

"Detective Kennex is protecting his partner," Urie cuts in, "And he's taking out a dangerous criminal. How is that wrong in any way, shape or form? We _should_ be giving this man a medal."

"And the fact that the thug was found in the middle of the street, sliced until he was unrecognizable and ground to a pulp isn't cause for concern?" Lesilie says, "This Detective Kennex is going psycho over an android. How is this not deplorable?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to refrain from using ableist slurs." Reynolds says blandly,"And let's be honest here. This person was a thug. A killer. And has done worse than that to others, if you could be bothered to read his file. So honestly, yes, it's unsettling, but I am not losing sleep over a criminal being killed by a police officer. If i did, I'd never get any sort of rest. He did his job. The end."

"And upon further investigation it is confirmed that he is in the video that was released and was involved in the assault against his partner." Urie shrugs, "Who can blame him for going to town on the lowlife. No one is crying for his loss, trust me."

"But this has to be against some sort of civil right or something! And what happened to that bot was misuse of property at most, if he even counts, seeing as he was an old model anyway. The term assault is for people. Actual people. _Humans_." Lesilie cries, throwing his hands up.

"Actually, no." Reynolds says, "Detective Kennex is a police officer, and when the crime rate skyrocketed, many politicians--including _you_ Lesilie--approved the law that states that any officer may exterminate any criminal who has a record that warrants such actions. On site, if I recall."

"Detective Kennex can't be held to any disciplinary action, not even a minor one, because it's not even like he has been suspended. He was still technically an on-duty cop. And he came across a wanted criminal and did his job." Urie shrugs, "The most that can happen is a slap on the wrist from the sanitation department for leaving the body there. But that's about it. And as I said, he did nothing wrong. In the eyes of the law or morally. And yes, I--and most of the city--see this as assault. At this point I have made up my mind that beings made to feel should be respected as such. It's _really_ not a difficult concept. I wasn't always supportive of this point, seeing as the DRNs were on the street for so short a time that I never got the chance to interact with any of them, but I've seen cam footage of Dorian. _And_ precinct footage. His emotions seem real enough to me. So sue me, I'm on board. He's a living being. Enough said."

"Are we really treating this robot like a _person_?" the man cries, "Have you all gone insane? They were _decommissioned_."

Reynolds blinks, "That means less than nothing to me, seeing as I was against _that_ when it happened, just as I was against the test that the DRNs were subjected to. A feeling being can't be brought into the world, treated like crap, and then be expected be of sound mind. That's not how anyone works. Not even pets." 

Leslie sputters, "Why is this DRN so special? He's a _machine_. He is not real! He runs on code and electricity."

John grits his teeth.

"Wow." Urie deadpans, "You really have _no_ soul. I thought it was a rumor, but you are really awful. Like, as a _person_."

Reynolds chuckles from his slice of the screen, "Well, as I have _been_ saying since this started, I fully support Detective Kennex and Detective Dorian. Should the threat of decommission or any further applications of the luger test end up hanging over him, my supporters and I will be doing what we can if they want our help. I support our officers. And will continue to do so."

"Same for me, Senator Reynolds." Urie says, "There is no reason to decommission DRN-0167, but I have faith that should they try, the Central Police Board building would be rife with protesters. They shouldn't even try, honestly. And why even bother? Detective Dorian's record is flawless. He's good at his job, and no one has filed any complaints. He seems well liked, if the tweets, holo-letters and emails are anything to go by. People he's saved, people he's interacted with...they all vouch for him. He's kind, and does his job. Seems like quite a funny guy too, from what I hear." 

"I think--"Lesilie starts angrily.

"No one cares what you think." Reynolds deadpans.

The screen splits again, and the woman John recognizes as the host of the show (he only distantly remembers the current handful of late night talk show hosts these days) interrupts.

"Thank you Senator Urie, Senator John and Mr. Lesilie, for talking with us today." the guests say their goodbyes and the screen opens, all cameras back on the host.

John lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. 

"Next is Brandon Beale with sports, and tomorrow we have an exclusive interview with Detective Kennex's coworker, Detective Valerie Stahl, and hopefully, she will be able to give use some more insight into the situation."

The camera switches and some blonde guy starts babbles about hockey. John mutes it and sits in silence. He expected a lot of things, but not...that.

Every now and again John is reminded that the world isn't filled with people that live to screw others over. And every time he's reminded, it's a shock.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, but he jumps about a foot in the air when his phone chimes. He picks it up--hands shaking slightly from leftover nerves--and wakes up the screen. A text.

_Valerie_

_12:01 am_

_We're going to win this._

John smiles, looking at the words for a minute before he texts her back a hopeful, _'Yeah, I think we are.'_ , and turns off the television.

The bedroom is dark, save for the blue of Dorian's charger, and he tries to get on the bed as softly as possible so he doesn't disturb his partner, but when he settles, Dorian's blue eyes slowly open.

John takes his hand and turns to lay on his side, facing him. Their faces are only inches apart as John shuffles closer, resting a hand on his partner's hip.

They just look at each other for a while, and Dorian raises a hand to trace along John's cheekbone, his fingers lighting up in lines of blue as he does so. He takes his hand away, stopping the light show, and quietly and hesitantly asks, "Is--is everything okay?"

And John is relieved that he can look Dorian in the eyes and say, "Yeah, D. It is. Everything is going to be fine."

Dorian's eyes search his face, and John kisses him softly, all soft lips and tongue, pulling Dorian closer.

"It's going to be okay."


	44. Chapter 44

John's eyes flutter awake at 11 am.

He knows this because as soon as he opens his eyes, squints until they adjust and then looks over Dorian's head--comfortably resting on his chest, and his stomach flips when he sees his DRN sleeping peacefully--the clock projects the numbers into the open air.

John looks at the ceiling, strokes Dorian's back and takes a breath. 

The DRN stirs, blue lights racing up and down his temples before he slowly opens his eyes, blue crackling to life. John watches as his partner clumsily--and he guesses DRNs are a bit out of it when they wake up too, and for fuck's sake, it's _really_ cute--raises an arm and unplugs himself from the charger. The room is quiet as the thing stops whirring, and John realizes he doesn't even notice when the charger is on and making noise. It's weirdly quiet without it.

Dorian has just seamlessly blended into his home life. John barely notices the changes.

He looks back up to the ceiling. And to think he'd been so resistant to change before...

"John?"

"Hm?" John looks down, and grins when he's met with blue eyes.

"Hi." Dorian says softly.

"Hi, yourself." John smiles, planting a quick kiss on Dorian's forehead as the DRN laughs lightly.

He could get used to this. Just being...content. And okay.

Maybe they _will_ be okay. Finally.

They'll be able to do this every morning. Even if, after all of this, they aren't cops anymore, they'll still be able to have  _this_. This...domestic thing that John never thought he wanted, or could have. Until now. 

It could be like this all the time. Waking up with Dorian. Seeing the DRN in his clothes. Watching movies curled up together on the couch...

God, he's a damn sappy  _romance_ novel--

His thoughts derail when Dorian leans up and kisses him hesitantly, like he isn't sure it's okay. Like he can't believe that he can kiss John whenever he wants to. It's soft, and John pulls his partner closer to assure him that _this is fine_ , because this is how it _should_ be.

No stress. No fear. Just something that feels good. Done with someone you trust. Love.

It should be amazing. Fun. Pleasurable.

John has to show Dorian that. At his own pace, of course, but it's one of his goals.

Touches shouldn't hurt. And sex shouldn't be a violation. You shouldn't feel wrong, or dirty or used afterward. Someone shouldn't just be taking and taking and taking from your body without giving all they can in exchange. 

He hopes he's getting that across, but he figures he's on the right track when Dorian sighs into his mouth.

John knows what he can and can't do by now. How to go about touching his partner in a way that makes him feel comfortable, not overwhelmed or like things are going too fast. Hands on Dorian's hips and ass are okay, as long as it's gradual and not all at once. Kisses have to start slow. No sudden movements, no aggressive behavior. It has to be slow, and gentle.

John has no problem with that.

He's on guard for when Dorian wants to pull away, but his partner presses closer, hands running through the hair at the nape of his neck, the kiss getting deeper and wetter and John is sure that Dorian can feel his heart pounding through his ribs. He bites at Dorian's bottom lip, wrapping an arm around his waist because he knows what he needs and he needs him _closer_ \--

Dorian seems to have the same idea. That's how he ends up straddling John's lap, their chests pressed together, with John tilting his head up slightly because he really isn't ready to stop kissing him any time soon. John wraps an arm around his partner's waist again, pulling him to sit fully on him, and tries not to think too hard about how close together their cocks are, straining through thin pants.

Dorian gasps when John skims a hand under his shirt, and John only releases his mouth to ask him, "Is this okay?", his voice hoarse and breathless. Dorian nods eagerly, hands running through John's hair (it's getting long, John should _really_ go for a haircut soon) as he kisses him again. He lightly caresses Dorian's skin, taking in the feel of the warm synthetic flesh, their kissing getting deeper until they're licking at each other's tongues and softly biting lips, wet sounds echoing in the room along with their moans. He feels his partner's hands under his shirt, shyly running his fingers over John's heated skin.

He's also lighting up like John has never seen. Blue races down his neck, disappearing under the neckline of his sweater, and running through his fingers, John guesses. He's not sure.

His brain is a bit scrambled. 

"This okay?" John gasps, pulling back to look into Dorian's eyes.

He notices two things. The first is Dorian's spit slicked lips--which are distracting for obvious reasons, so fucking _plump_ and _soft_ \--, the second are the fact that his pupils have blown out, the blue of his eyes only a thin ring.

John is sure his eyes looks the same.

"I--I want--" Dorian chokes out in stuttering gasps, pressing his forehead to John's and fiddling with the hem of John's t-shirt, "w--want--but I don't--know--h--how to..."

He trails off, blue lights firing off faster, racing up and down is body, his hand trembling as he runs his fingers over John's skin. John brings his lips close to his partner's that they brush with every breath he takes before he tightens his arm around Dorian's slim waist and whispers, "Anything you want."

He's wrecked. And he's sure he's never been this hard in his life. Because Dorian just looks so fucking delicious and _pretty_ \--

Dorian licks his lips, taking a shaky breath he doesn't need, "I--I don't know what...to do."

"What do you _want_?" John whispers against his lips, his lips brushing his partner's. 

John knows what _he_ wants. _He_ wants to pin his partner down and _take_ him. He wants him moaning under him and arching into him. John wants to be inside him and around him and close to him. He wants to lick and kiss everywhere on the body pressed under his, and then he wants to plunge inside and feel that wet, tight warmth. He wants to make Dorian feel better than he ever has.

But it's not about what he wants.

This isn't about him.

"I--I..." Dorian gasps and stutters, until John runs a hand up his shirt, caressing the smooth skin at the small of his back. John has to bite back a predatory growl when he hears Dorian speak. His voice is breathy, high and quiet as he gasps, " _Touch me._ " against John's lips.

A shiver of arousal shoots down John's spine. " _Fuck._ " he moans, lips brushing against Dorian's, running his hand over his partner's skin again before he says, "Where? Where, D?", voice wrecked and husky.

" _Everywhere_." Dorian breathes, and it's almost like a sob because _he needs John to erase the feelings of foreign hands touching him and he wants John to touch him he needs John to touch him and touch him and love him and touch him and never let go--_

John groans, biting his lip, and trying not to lose his fucking _mind_ , and dash the newest extension of trust that Dorian has placed in him. 

John's aroused, hard as a rock and fucking  _terrified_ because Dorian is in his hands and in his arms and craving John's touch, affection and love. He's needy and _wanting_ and he doesn't want to ruin it. He doesn't want to _scare_ him. This is a chance to show him how _good_ being touched can feel, when it's with the right person. How good being _intimate_ can be, when it's not forced, horrific, terrifying and violent. When it's not unwanted and turned into something twisted, and ugly. When it's not an _attack_.

A chance to help Dorian be able to regard his body in a positive way again.

It's not going to fix everything, or even a little bit of it, but John knows Dorian needs this. He needs positive touch and to associate intimacy with something that's not violation, pain, shame and fear. 

John wants this. He wants to touch Dorian and make him feel good. _Loved_. It's all he's wanted for a while.

He slowly dips his fingers past the waistband of Dorian's pajama pants, and takes Dorian's soft, deep kisses as an indication that he's not uncomfortable or afraid. John traces the warm skin along his waistband until his hands graze Dorian's erection, swallowing the hitch in his partner's breath as John devours his mouth, tongue sweeping over teeth and tongue.

He palms Dorian through his pants, the fabric providing friction and his partner moans into his mouth, gripping John's hair a bit tighter.

John likes that quite a lot, actually. Dorian's hands in his hair.

The stuttered gasp and hand he gets fisted in his shirt when he dips in Dorian's pants and runs a finger along his length makes John 99% sure he's leaking through his underwear. And god, Dorian feels so _good_ like this, trembling with want and gasping into John's mouth, pressing closer because he's not afraid, but because he feels _good and wants more_.

To Dorian, John means safety. Love. Protection.

So when John slowly takes him in his hand, the DRN gasps, his lips falling away from John's, but their faces still so close that John can feel Dorian's lips grazing his. He trembles in John's arms, letting out a high pitched, breathy cry when John strokes him slowly.

"You okay?" John asks in between pressing wet kisses to Dorian's parted and panting lips, "This okay? Does it feel good, D?"

"Ye--yes." Dorian gasps, pressing closer to John and letting out tiny gasps and cries as John's hand moves over him.

"Want to make you feel good." John moans, Dorian warm and hard in his hand, and he leans forward and kisses his partner's collarbone, softly biting the thin synthetic skin there. Dorian's arms wrap around his neck, delicious, soft cries falling from his lips, blue racing up and down his body.

John could live on the sounds his partner is making. He would be content to never feel anything other than Dorian's weight in his lap, his chest against his, Dorian's hands in his hair, shaking with feelings of pleasure that John is introducing him to.

" _J-John_." Dorian gasps, clutching him tighter and making a desperate noise. He looks up and the expression Dorian's face is one he wants to be able to see as much as he can. Dorian, in his lap with a stark red blush on his cheeks, his eyes half lidded and spit slick lips open and panting because John knows how to touch him in ways that make him _forget_. That make him feel overwhelmed with love and ecstasy. All while in safety and security he feels nowhere else.

" _Ah-John._ " Dorian's gasps, breath hitching, " _I-I feel-I d-don't know..."_

"It's okay, D." John soothes, voice wrecked seeing someone as beautiful as Dorian come apart for him. _Because_ of him. Because John can make him feel like no one else can, "It's okay, baby. I got you."

" _John_." he cries again, softly, raking nails through John's hair in the way he loves, breathing faster.

"It's okay. Come apart, D." John whispers, stroking Dorian faster, "It's okay."

"Ah-" he cries softly, and John can tell he's panicking just a little bit, but he refuses to let John go, so he keeps stroking him, swiping his thumb over the tip of his cock--

Dorian clutches him and sobs his name, high and shaky, before he tenses, multiple lines of lights running down his cheeks and body, not just in blue but red, yellow, pink...

It's beautiful.

John holds Dorian tightly as he shakes through his first orgasm. He holds him until the lights go away, save for the occasional flash of blue. Until Dorian stops shaking.

He also thanks their lucky stars that DRNs don't secrete any fluids like humans do when they come, because the reminder of Dorian's hesitant when they were on the couch hangs over him.

Dorian stills eventually, but doesn't pull away, his face nestled in John's neck as his breathing evens out, and John can feel his own heart beating wildly in his chest along with the steady whirring of Dorian's inner mechanics.

They're silent for a long time, just breathing together and trying to stay as close as possible for as long as possible.

"D? You okay?" John asks, and it's dawning on him _what the fuck they just did and oh god what if he scared him or took advantage of him what if when Dorian said his name he wanted him to stop and John didn't what if he hurt him--_

"Yeah." Dorian sighs contentedly into his neck, eyelashes grazing John's skin as he blinks, before he startles and pulls away, looking John in the eye.   
  
"What about you?" he asks, and John knows he's talking about his erection, straining against the front of his pants.

"I'm fine, D." John says, slowly stroking along his cheek, smiling when blue lights follow his fingers.

"But--are you sure--" Dorian stutters, brow furrowing in concern, "It's not fair that--"

" _Hey_." John says, "This was about _you_. _For_ you."

The look on Dorian's face is soft and vulnerable and it makes John want to kiss him and never leave this bed ever again--

"I love you." Dorian breathes, looking John in the eye, "You're so good to me and I _love_ you."

"I love you too." John says, cupping his face with one hand, "You're amazing. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone."

Blue eyes soften, then John has an armful of DRN.

They sit like that for a while.

~

And of course, reality comes knocking.

Valerie's text reminding him about the interview has him groaning and scrubbing a hand down his face, Dorian looking at him with a quizzical expression from his place tucked under John's arm. They'd moved to the couch hours ago, but now responsibility pierces their little bubble.

_'And we're back.'_

And just as Dorian has gotten the hint and is about to excuse himself, John's phone rings.

The screen says Rudy, but John can't deal with whatever the tech wants to talk about right now, so he clicks the ignore button, gives Dorian a kiss before watching him walk to the bedroom and slide the door shut.

He hears the sounds of the charger starting up.

Rudy calls again.

John clicks ignore.

The host introduces the show. John texts Valerie a ' _Thank you_ ' and ' _Good luck_.'.

Rudy calls again.

John huffs. Clicks ignore.

Valerie's face appears on screen, her cool expression never changing as she looks at the host who is saying something to her that _John can't hear because his fucking phone is ringing again--_

"Rudy! Not now!" he snaps, and is about to hang up, not caring what he has to say until he hears Rudy swear loudly over the tinny speaker. John's brows furrow and he puts it back to his ear, "Uh-Rudy?"

"Get. Down. Here. Now."

John huffs in annoyance, "I can't. I'm _busy_."

"John..."Rudy hisses, "I'm not asking. _Here_. _Now_. If you don't hurry up I'll send an MX to collect your stupid, _stubborn_ arse."

The line goes dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah. I want to just clarify though, despite this chapter, this is not a healing!cock fic. Dorian was feeling especially brave for that moment, but he is nowhere near healthy or recovered. It's progress. Not a cure. 
> 
> A handjob isn't going to take away the trauma.


	45. Chapter 45

John considers not going.

He considers staying in the house, watching Valerie's interview, then climbing into bed with Dorian. Fuck Rudy, seriously.

But his curiosity has gotten him into worse trouble than whatever it is the tech has for him, and he did sound hysterical and pissed _all the way_ the fuck off when John brushed him off on the phone. And most likely this is something to help _him_ , because Rudy never calls with his own personal problems. John does kind of feel bad too, Rudy helps them out a lot, but he doesn't exactly express...gratitude. He snaps at the man more often than not, and only contacts him when he needs something, and John sighs in exasperation and leans his head back on the back of the couch and clenches his eyes shut.

Fuck. He's a total  _asshole_ and now he's going to have to get dressed at 11 pm and drive down to Rudy's horror house of discarded robot parts in freeze-your-balls-off weather, because he feels guilty for treating him like shit.

Being an asshole really isn't doing John any favors.

He can't just go. He can't just leave Dorian here alone. He won't. And Dorian is in the middle of charging, and will probably be confused and tired if John tried to wake him up--

but Rudy sounded like he really needed John there.

The detective sighs. He is going to _kill_ Rudy if this is anything short of a world-shifting emergency--guilt be damned.

So John reluctantly turns off the television, runs a hand down his face, and carefully winds his way through the dark house towards the bedroom.

God, he _doesn't_ want to do this. The guy has been through enough, the least they can do is let him charge in peace. Jesus.

The door creaks open and John steps through, the blue LED of the charger being his only light as he winds his way to the side of the bed that Dorian is curled up on. John lays a hand on the curve of the DRN's waist, and shakes him gently.

Dorian stirs, lights racing up and down his temple until he opens his eyes. Even in the dark room, John can tell the DRN looks sleepy. A low charge always makes him drowsy.

He looks up at John and blinks slowly. John hopes that Dorian can't see the small smile that he's sure is plastered on his face because Dorian looks so _cute_ \--

"John?"

The DRN's voice is drowsy and John immediately feels bad again.

"Is everything okay?" Dorian asks quietly, growing more concerned because of John's silence.

"Uh-yeah, D. At least," he sighs, "I think so. Rudy just called. Wants me down there. It sounds serious."

John watches as Dorian clumsily reaches back and unplugs himself from the charger, "Oh. Do you know what it is?"

"No. He just told me to get down there, and I-" John moves to wave his hand in front of the sensor for the bedside lamp, squinting as soft light floods the room, "I really don't want to leave you here alone..."

Dorian blinks, seeming a little more awake now, "Can I come?"

"That's what I was thinking, yeah." John says.

Dorian nods and John yawns and stretches getting up and going for their coats, "We're wearing our pajamas. I'm _not_ getting dressed for this. Rudy'll have to fucking _deal_."

He hears Dorian chuckle, and he feels a hand slip into his after he's handed his partner a coat and they step out into the dark, cold night and head to the car.

~

Dorian leans his head on the window and dozes during the drive. He's quiet and still, and seems more asleep than dozing by the time they're halfway there.

He's wearing John's coat, and it's a bit too big, and John can't help but think he looks _adorable_. They hit a red light, and John takes out his phone to quietly snap a picture.

He totally has to save that.

Then John rolls his eyes because he's become _that_ guy. The kind of guy who snaps pictures of his significant other doing cute things when they're not looking. And he doesn't doubt he'll be the guy who ends up boring everyone to death with vacation photos of them too. Or them during cooking class for something.

 _That_ guy.

Well, he shrugs, he could be a serial killer. So it could be worse. He's not going to freak out over some cheesiness on his part.

Bigger fish, and all that.

He cringes at the small bump he drives over when he pulls up outside of Rudy's lab, and he reaches over to gently wake Dorian--who blinks at him blearily, lights running down his face--and watches as the DRN sinks down further in John's coat, squinting and looking around.

John smirks, gets out and rounds the car, opening the passenger side. Dorian gets out and John can't help but chuckle because he looks like John does before he has coffee and something about that amuses him to no end. He takes his partner's hand and walks toward the door, finding that it's been left unlocked.

The lab is bright, every light blazing and John groans and squints because _jesus_ does Rudy ever sleep or leave this place?

 _No ones_ place should be this brightly lit at midnight. No one's. _Ever_.

They wind their way through the  tables and John almost sighs in relief when he sees that for once, there are no creepy robot parts lying about--

"John!"

Rudy's voice makes him jump, and Dorian blinks sleepily. John turns and is met with the sight of the skinny tech, wide-eyed and looking rumpled and frazzled and about seven types of stressed.

" _Jesus_ , Rudy." John says, "You look like hell."

Rudy hurries over, and his gaze sharpens when he sees Dorian, "Shut up, John."

John's brow furrows and he moves to say something along the lines of 'what the hell has gotten into _you_?' before Rudy gives him a sharp look then turns to the DRN.

"Hello, Dorian.", he says, voice deceptively light, "You look tired, want to charge in the back?"

Dorian blinks, lights running down his temples, and he doesn't seem to notice that Rudy is trying to get John alone.

"Yes, please." Dorian says. 

Rudy pats him on the back, and John watches him lead Dorian away.

John blinks. What the _hell_ is going on?

"I said _you_." Rudy snaps when he comes back, " _Just_ you. Don't you _listen_?" 

John glares, "Well I couldn't just leave him alone." the detective snaps back, "And you're just lucky I came at all seeing as it's the middle of the goddamn night. So what is it?"

Rudy glares back and they have a bit of a war before Rudy exhales and rubs a hand down his face.

"This is rather important. And I need to tell you before Dorian knows." he says, walking to the main table in the center of the lab. The table John has seen Dorian on far too many times, being repaired because things got uncontrollable and dangerous.

John's stomach is in knots, and he isn't good with nerves or anxiety so he just sighs, "Spit it out, Rudy. You're killing me here."

Rudy looks at him and taps away on a keyboard, bringing up some code or programming mumbo jumbo John has no idea what to make of.

"God, where do I start?" the tech says softly, then looks at John, "I have Dorian's root code copied into files on my computer. I have backups upon backups upon _backups_ \--"

"Are you allowed to do that?" John asks, fidgeting. He trusts Rudy with Dorian's life (he's certainly _saved_ it enough times), but it just makes him a bit apprehensive to know that someone has his partner's mind on a USB somewhere.

"Probably not. The DRNs were decommissioned so quickly that not many protocols were able to be put in place before they were gone, but no, probably not." Rudy answers, "Initially, it was so that if his body ever became too damaged and couldn't be repaired, he would still be able to be brought back, given I could get a different body or enough parts to reassemble a DRN body for him, and the little vial that contained his soul was intact. So he would never really be _gone_."

"That's...fucking brilliant, Rudy." John says after a moment.

"Thanks." Rudy says with a small smile, "Every time Dorian had to be repaired I would update the code along with recent memories and such, so that should he have to be re-uploaded and brought back, he would still have at least some of his more recent memories and it wouldn't be too jarring for him. Anyway," he takes a deep breath, "after what happened at the warehouse and Dorian leaving my lab, I was sifting through his code to see if there was a way I could remove the memory...", Rudy fidgets at the mention of what happened, "and I came across a string I've never seen before."

"A string?" John echoes, feeling lost.

"A string of code?" Rudy says, "A piece that can't always be read by a standard computer."

"Oh," John says, "Okay..."

"It didn't say anything that made sense, and I was confused as to why it was there, so I searched the police database." Rudy explains, "And found nothing. So I had to search the database levels that require a higher clearance, which is basically all levels except for levels one through three--"

"The _entire_ database? Those aren't only police files, Rudy. That's basically a huge file folder for everything that goes on in this city. Every company, every person. Ever since the uptick in crime and tech we file and report _everything_. We have bots that do it _for_ us because it's too much." John says, "That thing is a maze. No one can search _everything_ in it."

"Yes, I know," the tech say impatiently, "but I have a tool I created that can go through all of it in less than a half hour. Don't ask why I made or what I use it for, just know that I used it. I also had to ask Maldonado for her password to access the files in the first place. So I input the string of code and I--I found something."

"Something." John echoes.

Rudy shifts, looking anxious, "Yes."

John looks at the tech and rolls his eyes when the man just looks back at him in stunned silence, " _And_? Rudy, what _was_ it?"

Rudy takes a breath, "Manuals for the DRN series. Hidden so far and so deep into the LumiCorp's file that it's obvious no one was supposed to be able to find it."

"The manual?" John asks, brows furrowing, "How is that a discovery, Rudy? They all came with manuals. That's common knowledge."

How convenient. A _manual_. He wishes _humans_ came with manuals. Now that would make life easier.

"Not the _same_ John." the tech says, eyes wide, "It's an extended manual, of sorts. Not for public knowledge, at least, not at the time."

John sighs in exasperation, " _And_?"

"There was so much in them, John." Rudy says cryptically, "Riddle me this, if a line of police bots who had emotions were successful and well received, they would have the trust of the city, right? "

John shrugs, "I guess."

"And think about how charming Dorian is. How _easily_ he garners trust. He's _likable_ , John. They _all_ were. They all had different personalities, down to everything they liked or wanted out of life and the job, but they were all very likable, John."

John looks at him, " Uh, yeah Rudy. I can imagine--"

"So they would have the trust of the people right? What better way to introduced a whole new population of beings to a city than by _first_ putting them in a position in which they protect the city?"

John runs a hand down his face and tries not to snap because he has no idea where this is going, "Okay. Sure, Rudy. Yeah."

"And so, when they were well received and gained the trust of humans," Rudy says, looking at John pointedly, "People wouldn't mind seeing them in other places, in other professions. In homes."

"I guess not." John deadpans.

"John." Rudy says, and John is torn between being annoyed by the man and worried about him because he's never seen Rudy this wound up--"What if I told you that the only reason the DRNs were introduced as police officers was for _that_ very reason?"

"I don't--"

"John. What if these beings had settings and things they could do that had nothing to do with what they were supposedly made for? What if there was so much more to them?"

John is sure he's missing something, "Well, yeah. We _know_ that. Dorian doesn't need to be able to sing in order to be a cop, but he can do it. So that's not really news. He can do a ton of things that have nothing to do with his job."

Rudy looks at him like he's a first grader, " _John_. They weren't just made to be cops. They were made to _live among us_. There are routines, codes, subroutines that are in Dorian's head, _that were in all of their heads_ that weren't meant to be seen _until I unlocked them._ Until I found that bit of code."

The world screeches to a halt and turns on its axis.

"They were supposed to _integrate_." John says slowly, the thought hitting him like a lightening bolt.


	46. Chapter 46

"But," John says, tone laced in disbelief and heart starting to race, " _why_?"

Rudy takes a shaky breath, "That," he says regretfully, "is something I haven't been able to figure out, really."

John lets out a heavy breath, and feels the headache building behind his eyes because _wow the blows just keep coming--_

He's also sure that the fact that every light in the lab is _blazing_ isn't really helping either.

"The code is already inside Dorian's head." Rudy says slowly, looking at John, "He...he should know, John. He should know he was meant for _more_."

John rubs a hand down his face, then roughly runs a hand through his hair in frustration, "I know, _I know_. And I _want_ to, really I do, but--I--I don't know, Rudy. I don't think it's the right time and...so much is happening and I don--"

"John." Rudy says, cutting him off, voice uncharacteristically stern (and John wonders when Rudy got so _demanding_. Maybe the guy _always_ had a bit of fire in him that John never saw), "The last time we hid something from him he ran off and it was a whole big mess. I won't take part in this a second time. We _hurt_ him. I will not do that again."

"What and you think I _would_?" John snaps, "I care about him more than _anyone_! I love him! And that's why I don't want him overwhelmed, stressed and anxious by something else piles on top of _everything_ else. _Jesus_ Rudy, he can barely stand to be too close to anyone that's not me, we have to be careful what he knows. I don't want him to have a meltdown because everything is happening at once!" he finishes, breathing heavy. 

Rudy is silent, and as the silence stretches on John notices he's clenching his fists as well. He runs a hand through his hair, taking a breath and visibly deflating. He looks up, prepared to apologize because he didn't mean to scare Rudy or yell at him _but it's just all too much--_

but Rudy is looking at him like John's just given the man with a goddamn _unicorn_.

"What?" John says, brow furrowing, looking at the tech's expression.

Rudy looks at him, and John tries not to roll his eyes at the little awed smile that slowly appears on Rudy's face.

" _What_?"

Rudy blinks, "You just said you love him."

John indulges in his desire to roll his eyes, "Yeah, and?"

Rudy stares at him, fiddling with the small welding torch in his hands, "He's changed you, John. For the better."

John scoffs, "Yeah, you're late on that revelation, I think we all knew that _months_ ago."

Rudy nods, and they're silent. The quiet hangs over them, and John is really going to need some painkillers for this headache--

"I'm going to tell Dorian, John. I have to." Rudy says, and he looks John in the eye. John finds he doesn't even have the strength to fight Rudy on this. It seems to have drained out of him. He's so _sick_ of this. He's so _sick_ of life-changing decisions, events and revelations coming one after another at the same _fucking_ time with hardly any time for a _breath_ in between.

For God's sake, when will they finally get a break?

"Tell me what?"

John jumps nearly a foot in the air at Dorian's quiet voice breaking the silence as he weaves his way through the lab from the back room, blue eyes wide and trained on John. The DRN stops at his side, and John doesn't miss how he's kept a careful distance from Rudy. John flashes a sharp look at the tech, and mutters a dark, " _You_ tell him. You know more about this than I do."

He's not sure why he's upset. Maybe this _is_ the right choice. 

John watches his expression. Rudy tells him everything he told John--though with a lot less annoyance and sighs of irritation--and his partner's face is carefully blank for the entire explanation. By the end, Rudy is out of breath, and Dorian just blinks.

John isn't sure what to do. 

They're all just...standing there and John looks between Dorian and Rudy who are just _staring_ at each other, and the room is so silent he can hear his own heart beating. It feels like a balloon steadily filling up and about to pop. He's not sure if the impending pop will lead to a complete disaster (God, he hopes not), but it's building with every passing second.

"I don't--" Dorian starts before he pauses, blue lights running down his temple, "I don't fully understand. What other things? What will I be able to do that I can't do now? How will I be any different?" 

At that, Rudy blushes red to his hairline and clears his throat, shifting from foot to foot, and John wonders why _he_ didn't ask that question-- 

"Well, ah..." Rudy starts, looking between them for a moment before he sighs and straightens, "I'm just going to be very frank with both of you right now. I know I tend to be awkward and stutter but I'm just going to spit it out."

John rolls his eyes, "Fine, Rudy." 

Dorian is silent. Face blank. John is starting to feel the cold tendrils of worry creep up his throat. The DRN hasn't been like this in a while. He's been... _okay_ , not _great_ but not... _despondent_.

Rudy takes a breath, "Well, seeing as they were supposed to integrate and be a good chunk of the population, if the code is activated and used..." he pauses and looks at Dorian, "You know how there are nanobots in your body, Dorian?" 

The DRN blinks, "Yes." he says evenly, "They help with minor repairs if anything inside me goes wrong."

"I didn't know that." John says, brow furrowing.

"It's quite ingenious actually." Rudy says, "They are dormant until needed. But should a wire snap, they are activated to repair the damage. They are only programmed for minor repairs, mind you."

John folds his arms, and leans against the nearest table, "Oh, like how human blood clots to prevent us from bleeding out, or how we heal paper-cuts and stuff like that?" 

Rudy nods, and Dorian is silent. 

"Anyway," Rudy says, "these nanobots aren't only used for minor repairs because they're _weak_ , that's just how they've been programmed. Only minor repair work, so that the police department is forced to keep buying from metal companies and companies that sell robotic parts and the like so that I can have the parts to keep all androids going. Capitalism, and all that."

"It turns out these nanobots are actually _extremely_ powerful." Rudy says, "I just had no idea _how_ powerful until today. I never paid too much attention to them because by the time any bot was on my table they had done their job and were dormant again. And I never examined one because nanobots stopped being interesting ages ago..." Rudy says, trailing off before he snaps back to attention, "Ah- so, where was I...?"

John closes his eyes, takes a deep, calming breath and tries not to scream.   
  
"Oh, right, nanobots." Rudy says, "Uh, so when the codes are activated, a DRN's inner mechanics will start to change depending on their preference and lifestyle."

Dorian's brow furrows, and now he looks concerned (and John doesn't know whether he should be relieved Dorian is showing emotion _at all_ , or uneasy about what they're about to be told and how Dorian will feel about it.), "How so?"

"Ah, well, DRN's were made to be every kind of human in one, in a sense." Rudy says, fidgeting awkwardly, "So these nanobots could do, _anything_ , really. It means DRNs, logically, can change any sort of...internal organs...to play any role in...ah, relationships...marriage...having...children...and...such..." he finishes, face going beet red.

John doesn't get it...until he does. And his only thought is a strong and resounding ' _Oh shit._ '

The room is silent, all three of them standing there like the emotionally constipated men they are.

And John knows his mouth is open in a silent question, but he has no idea what to say. What is there to say? What's even a proper response for something like this? Is there one? That's...huge. That changes everything. For _Dorian_ , for _him_ , for _them_. It opens up a world of too many possibilities for what their lives could be and just the _thought_ makes the headache building behind his eyes increase in intensity. He blinks, and still can't quite wrap his mind around all of this at once. He can only imagine how Dorian feels.

And yeah, he _has_ to imagine, because Dorian's face is giving nothing away.

"But, when these changes are made they cannot be undone by nanobots." Rudy says, rushing to another subject, "They have to be done by a mechanical engineer, such as myself. After all, companies that deal in robotic parts have to still make a profit somehow. Because...capitalism." 

Dorian's temple is running those telltale blue lines, and John has no idea what to make of that, but he has the urge to touch and _reassure_ \--

"Those aren't the only changes though!" Rudy blurts out, scrambling to make the conversation significantly less awkward, "There are...lifestyle changes that come into play as well. Ah, dormant solar sensors being active so that DRNs don't have to charge as often in pods. Sleep mode actually can serve as a charging option as well. Makes for a much more natural transition into human society, not having to plug into an electrical socket at night." he finishes with an awkward, forced laugh.

The room is silent.

John narrows his eyes, and Rudy clears his throat and mutters, "A joke...sorry."

"Ah, anyway, uh, there are a lot more, and I only read so much of the manuals before I called you over, so the rest is yet to be discovered...", Rudy trails off, looking at them, waiting for a response.

The room plummets into silence again, and John decides to stop being a fucking wuss and actually _say_ something. So he takes a second to push down the nerves, and turns slowly to look at his partner. He pauses and bites his lip (a habit he's sure he's picking up from Dorian), and takes a deep, shaky breath.

The words come to him, and he doesn't hesitate to say them.

"It's your call, D."

At that Dorian's eyes regain some semblance of life and his face takes on that confused expression John has seen so many times. The DRN opens and closes his mouth, and seems to shrink into his jacket, temple alight in blue.

"If you want, Dorian," Rudy says quietly, "I can give you all of the information. Every last bit. This is about you. It's your life. And your body. It's 110% up to you."

And in that moment John remembers why he likes Rudy. To the skinny, awkward genius, everyone matters. His electronic butterflies, sexbots, that android head he always seems to be repairing that seems to be programmed just to say things that annoy Rudy as he fixes it. Even MX's. And _certainly_ Dorian. In Rudy's mind, everyone is pretty much the same. Some just run different than others. Needed different things. But everyone is important. And it's a rule that he lives his life by. John knows, he's seen it. He's seen Rudy arrive at crime scenes and ask _MXs_ if they're alright with concern in his eyes as he patched them up, knowing that they don't work that way. He saw it when he called Dorian crazy, right before he was turned on, when Rudy looked at him in plain, genuine offense and said he was being rude.

Rudy values life. In all forms.

Dorian looks at Rudy, still looking a bit lost and overwhelmed before he nods and says, "I think...I would like the information, Rudy."

Rudy smiles and nods, picking up a disk drive and plugging it into his computer, starting the data transfer.

"Hey," John says quietly, looking at his partner, "You okay?"

Dorian looks up at him, eyes wide, "I think so. I--I don't know, exactly." 

John gives him a small smile, and Dorian takes his hand.

And John sees it as what it is. A silent request for comfort. A quiet ' _I need you right now_.' 

"You know," John says, stepping closer and squeezing Dorian's hand in reassurance, "It's going to be okay."

Dorian looks down for a moment, before he says, "And how do you know that?" 

"Because I'm going to make it okay." John says easily, "No matter what." 

That causes the DRN to give him a small smile, "You're very stubborn."

John shrugs, brightening at his partner's change of expression, "You knew that."

Dorian lets out a soft laugh, "Yeah, I did."

~

Twenty minutes later they're back in the car, this time Dorian in possession of the small flash drive that could change their lives as they know it. 

They fall into bed, Dorian nestles into John's arms, and John is lulled to sleep by the gentle hum of Dorian's charger.

~

John wakes up to a text from Richard, his phone blinking in that neon green light that immediately annoys him. He manages to reach it without jostling or waking Dorian, and wakes up the screen to see the plain text that reads:

_Hey, Dorian still needs that therapy. Valentina has other offices in the city, and she makes house calls. The location is up to you. Think about it. Dorian needs it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Dorian still needs that therapy.
> 
> Whew, this plot is getting complicated.


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian _really_ loses his cool in this chapter. So warning for **DETAILED, GRAPHIC AND DISTURBING DESCRIPTION OF RAPE.**
> 
> Damn, this chapter is long.

The next day is spent pleading with a DRN that is simultaneously _annoyedfrightenedhesitant_  to go back to therapy. John regrets having to bring it up as soon as the word leaves his lips, because it's not even like _he's_  fully comfortable trying this again, he just knows that Dorian needs it. He's not surprised by the spat that the suggestion causes, he just tries to keep the collateral damage down to a minimum. 

And that's why they're standing on opposite sides of the kitchen, John holding a cup of coffee and nursing a building headache, and Dorian looking like he's about to disappear into his sweater so he doesn't have to entertain the thought anymore.

"No. Not after what happened last time."

"Dorian."

"I can't."

"That had nothing to do with the therapy. It was _helping_ , Dorian."

"I _can't_."

"It'll be in a different place."

"Until they find out about that location too. Then the next one. Then the next--"

"You know I won't let that happen again."

"What if this is something out of your control, John?"

"Then we'll deal with it, like we have for everything else."

"Between me being...this and your panic attacks, it doesn't really seem like we're dealing with it very well."

"And _that's_ why therapy is a good idea."

Dorian opens his mouth and John can tell he's trying to come up with a rebuttal, and raises his eyebrows when the DRN clamps his mouth shut and....is he.... _pouting_?

"Are you having a temper tantrum?" John asks fondly, trying not to laugh and hiding his smile behind his coffee cup.

Dorian glares at him, and he grumbles, "Well, you _snore_." before he walks away.

John grins and rolls his eyes.

~

A day later, they're in yet _another_ cab headed to the opposite side of the city.

The scenario seems so _familiar_ and that obviously makes Dorian nervous. He hates the fact that he's jumping at every sound, but the bubble of apprehension and fear doesn't dissipate. What if they're found again? What if they're cornered? 

He's not sure he's even recovered from last time. It's like he can still hear the crowd...feel the stares and flashbulbs...can still see those cold grey eyes, just as clearly as when they were above him while they--

While they--

_handsandtouchingandthesmelloftheirbreath_

John takes his shaking hands, and presses a kiss to his temple.

Dorian's panicking subsides, and he's present, in the car with John. Not in warehouses with tattooed men who smell like cigarettes, liquor and fuel. Not staring up at a ceiling and trying to ignore his body while they carve into him from the inside out...

He's with John.

John.

Focus.

He closes his eyes, and tries to concentrate on the feeling of John's hands holding his. John's hands don't hurt. 

The smell that haunts him isn't what he's inhaling right now. John smells like his aftershave and coffee. 

Safe.

He's safe.

~

Dorian keeps his focus on the fact that John has his hand in his, and tries to keep his gaze on the floor as much as possible, because he's sure that if he looks around and sees how exposed he is, he'll have some sort of awful reaction.

But then they step into a room where the air changes, and he finds the courage to look up a little bit, and realizes that this office is the same as the last one. It looks exactly the same. He feels himself relax because this is _familiar_ , and despite the terror that met him outside the building when he exited his last session, Valentina's office is one of the few places he feels safe. _Familiar_.

Blue...orange...

" _Dorian_ , my dear."

And a familiar voice. He tenses before he sees the small woman walking towards him, arms stretched out in a welcoming hug. And Dorian surprises himself, because even though he's still a bit terrified, he finds himself leaning into her arms, and wrapping his free arm around her as she pats his back in that soothing gesture she always does. He isn't ready to let John's hand go, but Valentina...is safe. Valentina won't hurt him.

"And _John_ , hello dear." she says, and Dorian watches as John leans down to hug her with that fake annoyed expression he puts on when he doesn't want to acknowledge the fact that he likes some form of affection someone is showing him. 

She pulls back from them, and gives them a considering once-over, and her face takes on an apologetic look before she says, "When you left last time, I had no _idea_. Richard called me and told me what happened, and I'm very, very upset that my patients were made to feel unsafe, right outside my office, no less."

"It's not your fault." John says, squeezing Dorian's hand, "It was just some really fucki--", he pauses when the woman gives him a sharp look, "--freaking bad luck.", John finishes, looking like a scolded child.

"Even so," she says, "I will do anything to make sure that never happens again.", she takes a breath, and looks at Dorian, "Shall we, dear?"

He nods, and John gives his hand one more reassuring squeeze before he feels the doctor's hand on his back, guiding him into the room.

~

Her main office is exactly the same too, and when he quietly says so, she smiles and says, "The familiarity inspires feelings of relaxation and safety." 

He nods. Then sits on the couch she shuffles him towards while she takes her own seat and grabs her E-pad to take her notes. 

Dorian doesn't know what to say. It feels like it's been ages since they last spoke, and so much has happened that it makes the very thought of recounting it all exhausting.

"So, Dorian." she starts, "Let's start with something simple. How are you feeling right now?" 

He blinks, "I'm...nervous. Afraid."  

"And why are you afraid?" 

"I'm always afraid." 

"Okay, but can you tell me _why_?" 

Dorian fidgets in his seat, "I would assume it's obvious." 

"There can be many reasons for fear." she says softly, "Do you know _why_ you're afraid? Or what you're afraid of?" 

"I'm afraid of everything," Dorian says, trying not to look as overwhelmed as he feels, "that's my problem. I--I'm afraid of being attacked. All the time." 

"Like the crowd outside. After our last session." she replies. 

"Yes.", he knows the lights are running down his face, giving away his emotional distress, but he can't seem to stop them. She sees this, and raises an eyebrow.

"Dorian, remember what I said?" she asks, "I can see the lights on your face. You're thinking too hard. You're holding back. This is where you can say whatever you need to say, dear. No filter, no consequences. Emotional responses are good, and you need to feel what you feel. Don't think, just talk." 

Dorian looks at her before he relaxes on the couch, placing his arm on the armrest and pillowing his head on it. He's more comfortable this way, for some reason, and he ends up just putting his legs on the couch too. She smiles at him, and he wonders how he looks, laying on the couch, facing her and using the armrest as a pillow.

"That day, when we left," he starts, voice quiet, "we saw one of them, in the crowd. He was just standing there, with people filming us and taking pictures. He was _looking at me._ He was leering at me like...like I was a piece of meat. Like I was _his_. That scared me. More than anything. Them thinking they own me, because of..." 

She nods, "But you know they don't, right?"

He closes his eyes, because for some reason that makes talking so much easier, "I don't know. Sometimes I feel like they do. Sometimes they're all I think about. Sometimes I feel them and I don't know how to get them _away_ and I might as well just _be_ there again. It's _terrifying_."

"In these moments, is there anything that grounds you? Pulls you back into the present?" she asks, and he can hear her tapping away on her E-pad. He doesn't open his eyes.

"John helps, but I...I don't want to have to always go running to him." he confesses, "He already thinks I'm weak."

"Why do you assume he thinks that?" she asks, brow furrowing.

"He walks on eggshells around me. Whenever he touches me or kisses me it's about _me_. Not about _us_.", Dorian says miserably, "Our entire relationship is about me and I hate it. He also keeps things from me, because he thinks I can't handle it. And it's even more frustrating because I _can't_. He's _right_."

"So you have been engaging in intimacy with John?"

"Yes."

"And how do you feel about that?"

He's quiet for a moment.

"It's...nice. I like when he touches me. It makes me feel like maybe my body isn't so ruined and disgusting that I'll never be able to comfortably inhabit it again. When we...it makes my body feel like it's mine again. And it _feels_  so good. But..."

"But?"

"I always feel _them_ more afterwards." Dorian says, folding his arms in an effort to make himself smaller, "In the moment I can differentiate between John and...them...but after...I _can't_."

"You keep saying 'them'." he hears her say softly.

"I don't know what else to call them."

"You need to call them what they are, Dorian. Your attackers."

"I don't want to be reminded--" he starts before he stops, he feels himself starting to tremble, "I just want to forget."

"Dorian, dear." she soothes, "Ignoring it won't make it go away."

"I can't think about it."

"You're going to have to, love."

"No."

"This is a safe space, Dorian."

"I know that." he says, sitting up, and he can feel his energy levels spiking in anxiety and frustration.

"You've been very vague on the subject when we've touched on it in the past. You _aren't_ processing it, Dorian. You're _repressing_ it."

"How can I be repressing it?", he says desperately, panic setting in, "It's _burned_ into my hard drive. My _mind_. I have _footage_. And I can't get rid of it." 

"That's not what I mean, Dorian. And you know it." she replies evenly, "You need to _talk_ about it. You need to feel everything you feel about what happened to you--" 

"Why is everyone saying that?" Dorian cries, standing up and pacing, lights running down his face, "'What happened to me', 'the warehouse', 'the assault', why do you all say that? Why do you call it that? I know you use the word when you talk about it with each other, but to my face everyone wants to sidestep and sugar-coat it like that's going to make me _feel_ better. Just _say_ it. _Rape_. I was _raped_. Raped. Raped. _Raped_. Just _say_ it!" he screams, eyes clenched shut and lights firing off faster, " _I was gang raped and it was brutal and damaging and I'm dying inside because of it._ _Call it what it is_. I was raped and _everyone_ knows. Might as well be blunt. Everything that's happening right now is because of me. Because those... _things_ decided that they could invade my body and do what they wanted. That they could just _ruin_ me from the inside out." 

"And under the fear I'm _furious_." he screams, and somewhere along the way he realizes he's started to cry, "Because ever since I was reactivated everything has been _awful_. Even before this people ignored me and only talked to John, or called me 'bot' like I don't have a fucking _name_. And now it's a _nightmare_. People are on television debating about whether I should be treated with any _dignity_ or not. People, _humans_ , are pretending they care, all of a sudden. I _hate_ this city. And _everyone_ in it. They didn't care about me before, they didn't care about my series, but now all of sudden I've garnered _support_? _Why_? So humans can feel good about themselves, pat themselves on the back and revel in how _kind_ and _compassionate_ they are?" 

"They probably _all_ watched that video. _Every single one_.", he hisses, angry tears making their way down his face, "Because what does it matter? I'm a bot, a synthetic, some pale imitation of a human. _Fake_. And they act like they _care_. If they cared so much they would just move on. But no, they want a _story_ , all of them. _That's_ what I am, a _story_. This is what those men wanted. They wanted to make headlines. And they did. And they used me to do it. And I still feel their hands on me and I still smell them on my skin and feel them. And it will never go away. And you want me to talk about it, like this _city_ isn't talking about it enough. Like I don't spend most of my waking moments _with it in the back of my mind._ "

"Is this what you wanted?" he screams, turning to the therapist, "Is this what you wanted to hear? You want the details? You want me to _'talk about it'_?   _Fine_. Fucking _fine_. I can still taste the last one on my lips sometimes because he _kissed_ me. I can _still_ taste his tongue. His saliva. Sometimes I can feel his tongue licking at mine. The first one called me pretty, and I had to look in all their eyes as they _stuck their penises inside me_. And sometimes I can still feel _that_ too. Every _twitch_ and _throb_  when they were inside me. You want me to talk about it? Fine. Let's talk about how I felt them thrusting so hard into me the back of my coat was in _shreds_ because the fabric was scraping against the ground.", Dorian wraps his arms around himself, " About how I felt myself tearing because some of their penises were so _huge, and thick_ and they were so  _rough_. Let me tell you about the fact that they called me 'whore', 'cum-dumpster', 'slut', 'fucktoy', 'blow-up doll' and 'a tight little hole to fuck in'."

He starts trembling harder, but doesn't lower his voice, "And that I remember their expressions. I can feel their hands on my hips, pressing me down on the floor, and I can see my legs spread and _I can't move_. Let's talk about how they all came inside me and I had to lie there and feel their come drip out of me agonizingly slowly. Let's talk about how I'll forever have the view of them over me jacking off in my mind. Let's talk about how I had to lie there while their warm come landed on my face and clothes and _everywhere_. And that the entire time they told me that I wanted it. That I _loved_ what they were doing to me, and was asking for it. That that's all I was good for. That I was a 'good little sex toy' and 'the prettiest bang bot'." 

At some point he distantly realizes he's started sobbing, and the combination of fury, despair and _disgust_ making him feel like he's going to fry a circuit. But he's so _angry_ and his face is a mess of tears and he finds he can't stop. He wants to, because he knows he's being nasty and horrible and saying terrible things, _but he can't stop._

"I can't sleep on my back because it reminds me. I can't stay still for too long because it reminds how I couldn't move. I can't handle it if someone I don't know moves too quickly around me. I can't stand anyone being behind me. I want to never, _ever_ see my body again so I wear John's clothes because they're bigger and don't cling to me. I can't stand to look at my own face because _they_ liked it. They liked it so much and thought it was _so pretty_ and now it's not even _mine_. I don't belong to myself anymore. I never did. Even before them, I was property of the police department. I was an idiot to think I could have anything different. And now I'm paying for it. I'm not mine. I never was."

He wipes cheek with his sleeve in harsh frustration, his voice is high and hysterical and he's too far gone to even be _embarrassed_ , "And now I'm soiled, weak, repulsive and scarred and _nasty_. _I_ can't even stand to touch myself, because I'm revolting. I can still feel _everything, every little thing_  and I'll never be clean. I'll never be able to _forget_. I'm disgusting and, ", his breathe hitches, "  _ugly,"_ he sobs, voice breaking, _"_ and I'm tainted. But I'm _stuck_ with myself." 

Dorian sniffles, and looks down, voice quieting but lights still racing, "I don't know why John even  _bothers_." 

The silence that settles between them is heavy and Dorian stands there, looking down and silently crying. He didn't mean for all of that to come out. And now that it's out there he's embarrassed and guilty. Valentina is so sweet and kind, and he _yelled_ at her. Dorian said so many _disgusting_  and _horrifying_ things and he automatically feels the remorse set in. He can't stop saying horrible things to people, and the thought makes him put his face in his sleeve-covered hands.

Dorian moves to turn away (and go where? He has no idea.), but is stopped when he feels a hand take his arm. He doesn't move. He sniffles.

Dorian just wants to disappear. Just melt away. He wishes something irreplaceable would malfunction inside of him, so he can get out this. So Rudy won't be able to fix him and can just...not be.

"Here, love."

Her voice is gentle, and Dorian finds himself complying when she takes his hands and moves them away from his face. He can only _imagine_ how he looks, and he sees that the woman is standing next to him holding a box of tissues. He blinks.

And then Dorian takes one, before he looks at Valentina. She doesn't look angry at him, but he's having a hard time identifying her expression. She almost looks...relieved?

That doesn't stop the guilt from making itself known though, so when she shoos him back to the couch, and when they're both seated he looks at her and says, "I'm so, so _sorry_. I didn't mean to scream at you, and say all of--" 

" _Poppycock_ ," she says breezily, with a wave of her hand, "No apologies necessary, dear. _That_ , was progress.", she looks at him, tilts her head and smiles warmly, "And I'm _so_ proud of you." 

And as soon as Dorian finishes looking up the term 'poppycock' (British slang, he learns. A dismissal, of sorts) and hears the rest of her statement, his brow furrows and he wipes his eyes again.

"I am...confused."

"You did very, _very_ well, dear.", she smiles, "How do you feel?"

Dorian sniffles and then thinks.

He feels...

"Calm." he says quietly in disbelief.

"Ah," she grins smugly, "it seems that it worked then, yeah?"

Dorian looks up and shifts in his seat, because she's _right_. It felt good to get it all out of his head and into the open, even if it was painful in the beginning. It was... _freeing_.

"Dorian." she says firmly, "From here on in, I want you to be brutally honest with me. Say what you feel. Don't hold anything back."

He sniffles, "Okay."

"Our session is over." she says, standing and Dorian follows, "Now, may I have a hug?"

Dorian basically throws himself into her arms. She rubs his back, and he clings to her and takes a steadying breath when he hears her quietly say, "I'm so proud of you."

And when they pull back, she holds his hands, smiling and looking in his eyes and waggling her eyebrows until a small laugh bubbles out of him.

Valentina looks at him thoughtfully for a moment before she says, "Dorian, how do you feel about animals?"

~

When Dorian goes in for therapy, John stamps down the worry and opts to do something productive with his time. Starting with watching Valerie's interview. He's no good to Dorian if he's out here worrying when he could be catching up on what he missed and planning the next step.

So he opens the video attachment Val sent him the morning after as they had a short video chat when she learned he'd missed it (she'd rolled her eyes and grinned at that before she said 'You're a disaster, John Kennex', and sent the link), and puts in his wireless headphones, pressing play.

One thing about Valerie is that she cuts no corners. She'd really only sent him her interview, simply because the entire show didn't matter. He likes that about her.

The camera pans out, and the host--a prissy looking blonde woman--introduces Valerie, who sits next to her, her back rigid and her eyes glinting.

"Good evening, Detective Stahl," the blonde says, "I'm very glad you could talk with us tonight."

"Well," Val says, and John smirks because she has _that_ look on her face, and John is 99.9% sure she's about to tear them a new one, "the topic is pertaining to a dear friend of mine so, I of course want my voice added to the mix."

"Detective Kennex is a friend of yours?" the interviewer asks.

Valerie's eyes narrow, but the pleasant smile stays on her face, "He is, but I was talking about Detective Dorian." 

The blonde's brow furrows and she looks down at her notes, "The robot? DRN-0167?" 

Valerie smiles tightly, "His name is Dorian. Refer to him as such." 

The interviewer looks offended, "You are aware the robot isn't a _human_." 

" _Dorian,_ " Valerie says icily, eye's hard but smile never wavering, "doesn't have to be _human_ to matter. He's wonderful and he has friends. People who love him." 

"Love him?", blonde sputters.

"Don't _you_ love your friends?" Valerie says condescendingly. 

The woman looks at Valerie in outraged shock, and Valerie's smile never breaks when she says, "All of this debating is barbaric, in my opinion." she says easily, "Essentially, all of you reporters and politicians are yelling about whether someone's _rape_ is legitimate or not. Barbaric. _Uncivilized_."

The blonde's eyes widen, "Are you really implying that this is _rape_? This DRN is an object--"

"If you call him 'it', 'the robot', 'property' or 'object' again, I will find whatever I can on you and make sure, somehow, you end up in the cubes." Valerie says lightly, smile sweet, "Watch your mouth. I'm going to set this straight right now. Every being should be respected. Whether they are more metal than bio-organic or anything in between. Dorian is my friend. One of my closest friends. We've solved cases together, laughed together, and have seen the most horrific things together. We've won battles together, and lost battles together. We've celebrated and commiserated. He is family. I will not let anyone disrespect him because they think that humanity is the end-all be-all when obviously this is not the case. This is rape. This precious ' _humanity'_  that you people are trying to hold over him is irrelevant because guess what? It was _humans_ that did this to him. It is _humans_ that do this to others. When was the last time you heard about an android committing such a primitive, violent and disgusting act? They don't. But humans do.", her eyes narrow, "So, humanity? Really shouldn't be the standard. _Humans_ hurt my friend, and I will personally make sure that everyone involved is in the cubes being tortured for life or hanging from their intestines somewhere. Because that is how I dispose of trash."

The woman blinks and shakes her head in disbelief, "I--"

"And another thing, there are those who think Chromes aren't real people either, but here I am, sitting in front of you. Are you going to look me in my face and tell me _I'm_ not human?"

The woman stutters, "O-of course not." 

Valerie looks at her, face in a pleasant expression, but her shoulders tense.

The John's eyes widen as something _really_ interesting happens.

The interviewer puts down her notes and seems to deflate, looking at Valerie with wide eyes, and she looks... _sad_. Guilty, even. Her posture changes from rigid and defiant to relaxed and abashed. _She_ changes.

"Tell me about him.", the blonde says quietly, tone genuine as she takes off her earpiece (which John is sure that someone is yelling at her from), and turns to her guest. She's gone off book. This interviewer has ditched the questions and the jibes and now she's just a _person_. A person who feels awful about what she's said. A person who's _changed_ , right in front of their eyes.

Valerie smiles wider, and it's _real_. And it's smug, like she knew what was going to happen.

"He's very witty." Valerie says, "Funny too. Loves teasing his partner. Loves animals. Dorian is _kind_ , and great at his job. He's easy to talk to and everyone matters to him. No matter who they are. I've seen him give homeless witnesses the same respect he gives CEOs and politicians. Dorian's _gentle_ , and sweet. Good at making people feel safe and reassured. That's why I took to him so easily." she says, looking down, her first instance of deep thought for the entire interview, "I...don't always connect to people so well.", she says, "Being a Chrome on the police force kind of sets you apart, and other officers wonder what I'm even doing on the force at all. Doesn't make for many close bonds. But Dorian...when we met he didn't look at me funny or do a double take. He just introduced himself and treated me like everyone else. And almost immediately started making me laugh and sharing jokes with me," she laughs lightly, "almost always at John's expense.", then her face goes soft, "We're all equal, to him. He _understands_. Everyone. He's like no one I've ever met, or had the privilege of getting to call a friend. He's special." she finish fondly.

"He sounds amazing.", the blonde woman say gently, smiling. Then her face falls. 

"Is he--", she pauses, looking worried, "Is he okay?"

"He...", Val starts, before she presses her lips together and takes a breath, "He's surrounded by people who love him. We're helping him through this every step of the way. He's hurt, I won't lie to you, he is. _Anyone_ would be. But he has a lot of people who would do anything for him. More people than he realizes. He's strong, but when he isn't we're here. And we've got him. And we won't let him go."

The interview ends, the blond woman nodding in genuine understanding and thanking Valerie for talking with her.

The screen goes black and John doesn't realize his eyes are watering until he blinks and feels the moisture.

He pulls out his phone and sends a quick text.

_Valerie Alexandra Stahl, we fucking love you to death._

_~_

John's head snaps up when he hears screaming coming from the therapist's office. And what he hears makes his blood run cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt physically sick as I wrote some of this.


	48. Chapter 48

John pukes in the toilet of the waiting room bathroom.

That does exactly nothing to soothe the raging nausea and the horror that's causing his stomach to turn in knots. He'd sat frozen in shock and heard a never-ending parade of the most heartbreaking words screamed from Dorian in that room, and his first instinct was to kick down the door and _hold_ him, but he couldn't move. He'd kept listening. When he'd heard Dorian recalling everything in vivid detail, he started trembling, heart was almost beating its way out of his chest. But he forced himself to listen. The DRN's words had just gotten more and more revolting and graphic and when he'd finally stopped, John's stomach lurched, his insides turned burning hot and acidic, and he was shaking so violently he could hear his keys rattling around in his pocket.  _Oh, God._

And that's why his head is in a toilet.

He can't even stomach _hearing_ about it. But Dorian...Dorian _lived_ it. And is apparently _reliving_ it all the time.

_fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_

John retches, coughs and sobs. _Oh God._  

_Oh God, everything is fucked. Everything._

"John?"

He jumps about a foot in the air when Dorian's quiet voice wafts in from the door, and the DRN is kneeling next to him on the floor before he can assure him that ' _no, he's fine, really_ '. John coughs, and tries to hide his hands so Dorian doesn't see the shaking. He tries to take a breath.

"I'm fine." he says, and he cringes. One, because he feels like he's going to vomit again, and two, because his voice is hoarse and sounds fucking _awful_.

Dorian looks at him in alarm, concern and confusion, and then John sees the horror slowly creep onto his face. He tries to tell Dorian that it's fine, that _he's_ not the priority right now, but he just coughs uselessly.

"You...you h-heard." Dorian says, lights racing down his temple, eyes wide as he shrinks back from John, " _John, I'm so sorry. Oh my God, I'm so, so sorry. You weren't supposed to hear--You weren't supposed to know the details and I--I'm so sorry._ "

"I'm so sorry." Dorian says, "I'm so, so sorry.", voice cracking and recoiling away from John like he's afraid of hurting him more by being close.

John tries to clear his throat and fucking _say something_ because Dorian looks so guilty and _heartbroken_. Like he thinks he's a monster for getting his feelings out and trying to _heal_ just because John is weak and can't even stomach _hearing_ it. He stands quickly and rinses his mouth, hoping that makes talking a little bit easier. He feels a bit more put together now that his mouth doesn't taste like his own stomach acid.

He coughs again, and kneels where his partner is on the floor, "Dorian. Stop.", he croaks, "I'm alright, okay?"

"No.", Dorian says softly, and his face looks haunted, "No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. _No_. I made you sick. I'm sorry."

"Dorian?", John's eyes widen when the lights start spreading to Dorian's neck and under his sweater. Something is wrong, something is _really_ wrong, because Dorian doesn't even look like he's _there_ anymore. His eyes look unfocused and he's started shaking. His eyes are far away. Like he's... _somewhere else_.

Oh no. 

_fuckfuckfuckfuckfucknononononono_

"D," he says frantically, voice cracking, "D, can you hear me? D?" 

John has no idea what to do. This has never happened before, and he doesn't know if he should hold him or even touch him at all. Should he keep calling his name? John is panicking because his partner is falling apart right in front of him and he's useless. What did Dorian do for him? When he found John on the bathroom floor? He tries to think through the panic and remember. He remembers Dorian taking his hands, so that what John tries.

Not a good idea.

As soon as he touches him, Dorian jumps and violently flinches away, and John is helplessly forced to watch him curl up, bringing his knees to his chest and covering his ears while he chokes, "Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Don't touch me. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. No. No. No. No. No. No. Please, no."

"Dorian?", John yells, panicking and trying to get through to him, "D, _you're not there_. You're _here. You're here. With me._ " 

Dorian only curls in on himself tighter, and John can see the lights and he's sitting there, on the floor of the therapist's bathroom, his partner having a mental breakdown while he's about to have a panic attack. Or cry. Because he knows _exactly_ where Dorian's mind has gone. And he _hears_ him.

He's _pleading_. With _them_.

_"Please, stop. Please, stop. Please don't touch me. Stop. Stop. Stop. Please, stop. Don't. D-Don't."_

And John freezes again, because he's lost. He doesn't know what to do. Dorian is in his own hell, and John knows exactly what it feels like, because it's happened to him. It still does. But he doesn't know how to help. 

 _"I'm not. I'm not. I'm not."_  

John puts his head in his hands, panic and terror building. 

 _"Not a whore. I'm not. I'm not. Stop. Please. Stop. Stop. Stop. N-not a fuck-toy. I'm not. I'm not. No. No. Not yours. No."_  

John tugs at his hair, and is having trouble breathing. 

 _"Don't t-touch.",_ and John's head snaps up when he hears a sob forces its way through Dorian's rambling, " _Please stop touching. Get away. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop."_  

John is about to just give in and hold his partner--because he can't just sit there and do _nothing_ , not while Dorian is hurting and reliving a nightmare in front of him--when he hears the door open and...panting? He moves closer to Dorian as the sound gets closer, and he also hears a clicking noise he can't place, but either way he moves toward his partner and is ready to protect if needs to.

But what rounds the corner isn't a threat. It's not even a _person_.

It's a dog.

A very _white_ , _fluffy_ dog. It looks a lot like a _wolf_. John freezes in confusion because _too many things are happening at the same time and he's panicking--_

The dog pads up to Dorian and presses itself to his side, nudging its nose in the small space between Dorian's arms.  

John jumps, about to shoo it away, but he stops when he sees Dorian uncurl the tiniest bit. The dog takes advantage of that and wiggles its way further into Dorian's space as John watches. His protective side flares and he moves to shove the dog away again but...the thing nudges itself closer to Dorian's hand, and John blinks in awe when he sees the DRN grasp a handful of the dog's fur.

The dog seems to appreciate that, because it worms itself closer to Dorian, and John realizes that his partner has quieted down. So John sits back, and watches. The canine wiggles closer and closer, and eventually Dorian stops shaking, has uncurled himself and folded his legs. John can see his face now. It's tear streaked and his eyes are closed as he breathes, clutching the dog's fur as the dog nudges at him and tries to get his attention.

John feels like an idiot when he finally realizes that it's a _service_ dog. The fluffy thing knows _exactly_ what to do. So John also relaxes his rigid, tense posture, and takes a calming breath as he watches the dog bring his partner back to the present. It's gradual, and the dog nestles closer until Dorian's face is in its fur. The he hears a sniffle and sees Dorian looking up and blinking in mild confusion.

John gives him a small smile, "Hey, D." 

Dorian looks at him and hurriedly moves to wipe his face, "Sorry." 

He rolls his eyes, "No need to be.", he says, "Are you okay?"

Another sniffle, followed by a quiet, "I think so. Are you? I made you sick. I'm sorry." 

"D," John says, catching his eye and looking at him pointedly, "Stop. You have nothing to apologize for. Don't be sorry." 

Dorian looks like he's about to argue, but then a streak of blue runs down his face and looks down at the wiggling mass of white fluff in his lap and mumbles a confused, "Whose dog is this?" 

And John doesn't know why, but that makes him laugh for a good few seconds, and his reaction gets a smile out of Dorian.

"I have no idea," John says, breathlessly, "the thing just walked it's fuzzy ass in here while we were both being complete _messes_ on this bathroom floor--"

Dorian dissolves into laughter, and John can't help it, he joins in because _they look fucking ridiculous._  

"We've graduated from having mental breakdowns on our _own_ bathroom floors to _other_ bathroom floors. We're ascending." Dorian gasps out, and John is laughing so hard his stomach hurts and he can't breathe.

"Next, the _world_." he says, and that just sets them off again.

So they sit on the bathroom floor for about fifteen minutes, laughing like maniacs with some random dog they just met sitting in Dorian's lap. It's just so ridiculous that by the time they exit the bathroom--hand in hand with the white ball of fluff padding happily alongside them--their faces are streaked with tears of laughter, and they're breathing heavy not from panic, but from the kind of laughing that makes your ribs hurt and your face ache.

"Oh my god." John gasps, wiping away a tear, "That was amazing."

Dorian beams and chuckles. And _God_ , it's so fucking _nice_ to see his partner smile all big again. And he's about to just pull him in and kiss him until he hears a sound and realizes they have an audience.

They've reentered the waiting room, and Valentina is standing in the doorway of her office talking to an Asian woman John has never seen before. Who is also holding a leash, a collar, and handful of fabric John can't quite make out.

Ah, this is _her_ dog.

"Uh-Excuse me," John says, and points to the canine wiggling happily beside them, "Is this your dog?"

She looks at him and smiles, "That depends."

John's brow furrows in confusion.

"Ah, there you two are." Valentina says, then she takes a proper look at them, "What's happened?"

Dorian tries (very badly) to conceal his chuckle, and John tries not to smile when he says, "We uh--may have had some mental breakdowns in the bathroom."

And that makes a giggle break free from Dorian, which in turn makes John snort out a laugh.

"The dog helped though." Dorian adds.

"Well," the Asian woman says, "She's a service dog. And I've been told she could be very useful to you.", she finishes, looking at Dorian.

Dorian blinks, "You're _giving_ her to me?"

John raises his eyebrows.

"If you want her, yes.", she says, "I'm Amy, by the way, I work a few floors down and your doctor thinks she could be helpful. She is trained specifically to work with people in your situation."

Dorian looks at the dog, "How so?"

"Well, let's say you're having a flashback." Amy says, "When assault victims are having an episode human touch _really_ isn't ideal. I know from experience it can be just as scary as what you're reliving because in the middle of a flashback you _certainly_ don't want to feel hands shaking you or holding you down. Even if they're trying to help, you don't know that in the moment. That's where she comes in." she adds, gesturing to the dog, "She can sense an attack, and knows what to look for, so she intervenes and tries to use sensory overload techniques to bring you back to the present. She'll lick you or wiggle herself close to you, around you, or under your hands so you can feel her fur. She'll even poke you with that cold nose of hers." Amy continues, "She's also trained to detect any sort of distress, if you take medication she'll bring it to you at the same time every day, and she is trained to notice if a human falls into a depression lull. She'll annoy them until they get out of bed, or scratch at the door to force them to go outside. She also knows to stay close when you leave the house with her. If you start having an attack in a public place, she'll pull the leash and lead you somewhere secluded and quiet, where she can calm you down."

John blinks. Wow.

Dorian is silent, before he says, "She helped me. In the bathroom. I felt her fur and knew it wasn't a person, so I wasn't afraid."  

Amy smiles, "I'm so glad to hear that!"

Dorian turns and looks up at John, who looks him in the eye and says, "It's your call, D. Whatever you choose is okay with me." 

The dog sniffs around the room and Dorian watches, thinking. 

"I think I'd like to keep her.", the DRN says quietly, John squeezes his hand and presses into his side in encouragement, and Amy beams.

"Oh, good!", she says, "She's a huge sweetie, and I know you will be a good fit for each other.". She hands John the leash, and he takes it, looking on as she puts the blue vest on the wiggling dog. John sees the words 'Service Dog On Duty' across the top, and then in smaller letters, 'I'm working! Please don't pet me! Thank you!'

Amy kneels to put her collar on as she looks up and says, "Her name is Vanilla, by the way. One of the smaller kids downstairs kept calling her that, so that's the name she recognizes now."

"It's perfect." Dorian says fondly, and _yeah_ , even John has to agree, the dog _is_ adorable and he is pretty much already endeared to her because she helped Dorian. When _he_ couldn't.

So yep, they're leaving with a dog.

"She knows she's working when she has her vest on. When you take it off she knows she's free to wander off, explore or play. When she feels she has it on she won't leave your side, unless you tell her to go get something." Amy explains.

Valentina smiles as John and Dorian kneel together and let Vanilla sniff and examine them when Amy tells them to. John signs some documents while Dorian pets Vanilla, who seems to know who her top priority is, because she presses against his leg in a silent comforting gesture. And then they're being handed a leash, and Valentina is squeezing them both in a hug as Vanilla looks at her suspiciously, they call a cab, and they're walking out of the building. Dorian holds Vanilla's leash, and John mentally devises a plan to get dog food and bowls and anything else he assumes she'll need. Vanilla presses herself into Dorian's side for the entire ride, and John can't help but think they made the right choice.

~ 

"A dog." Valerie says over the line, "Why didn't I think of that?"

She sounds disappointed in herself, and John can only smirk as he watches Dorian play with Vanilla on the floor.

"You can only be so perfect, Val." he teases, and he hears her snort over the line, "Her name is Vanilla." 

"Oh my god, that's so cute." she says, "So let me go through the list again. Dog food, Dog bowls, treats, toys, bed, brush, nail clip, collars and leashes?"

"Yeah, thanks so fucking much, Val. I know we've been asking for a lot--"

"Shut up, John.", she says, and he can hear the smile in her voice, "You're family, remember? Plus, I'm dragging Richard with me."

John snorts when he hears a voice in the distance ask, _'You're dragging me where?'_ and Valerie answering with _'You. Me. Pet Store. After work.'_

 _'Why?'_ he hears Richard say. 

_'John and Dorian got a dog.'_

_'They got a dog!?!'_

John snorts.

"Tell Richard he can even pet her if he doesn't bring his MX."

Valerie laughs, "I think he's going to end up petting her no matter what. No one has ever succeeded in stopping Richard from petting a dog. Trust me. I've tried."

"Seriously Valerie, thanks. Tell Richard I said thanks too."

"Shut up, John." she says, and again he hears the smile in her voice. Then they hang up, and John turns his full attention to Dorian sitting cross-legged on the floor with Vanilla trying her hardest to lick his face.

He watches for awhile before he remembers what Dorian said about wearing John's clothes. It's obvious Dorian prefers sweaters, and John doesn't have many...

John sits in front of his computer, finds some nice ones and orders them. He also stumbles upon some hooded sweaters specifically for blocking out noises and managing sensory overload. He gets those too. Three for him, three for Dorian.

The less panic attacks the better.

John sits back, stupidly satisfied with how productive he's been before he looks at his small family on the carpet. He watches Dorian and Vanilla, then joins them, returning his partner's smile as the dog jumps on him.

For now they're okay. And it's an amazing feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DOGGY!!!!!!!  
> This is what Vanilla looks like: http://cdn.resimkoy.net/2015/09/26/giant-white-fluffy-dog-breed-bred-the-fluffy-white-dogs.jpg


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys ready for this long ass chapter in which a ton of shit happens? Because I'm thankful for you guys, here's a chapter that's basically 2 1/2 chapters in one!
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving.

They end up having to make room for Vanilla on the bed or she ends up laying across their legs.

Dorian doesn't mind, but when John puts his leg to charge he really doesn't want a furry lump so close to what remains of his thigh. So Dorian places her to rest at the end of the bed one night, and he assumes she's comfortable enough there because that's where she automatically curls up to sleep from then on. It's an arrangement that works for everyone. Vanilla gets to be close, Dorian feels safer having both John and Vanilla with him, and John is comfortable and not so self-conscious.

Dorian's charger startles the dog at first, who looks at it and sniffs at it suspiciously because it's so close to Dorian and she is wary of the odd, humming thing being so close to the brown 'light-up' human that she has been charged to protect. She sniffed at it, growled at it when it started up, but settled down when she saw that Dorian wasn't in any distress or danger. Neither was John. So she figured it was okay. She looked like she intended to keep an eye on it though.

They adjust to having a dog very easily. She's a welcome presence. She molds herself into their home life with little to no trouble. Except maybe the pet hair everywhere.

She notices that John always seems a little disturbed when he has to wheel himself to his leg every morning, so she walks next to him and puts her front legs on the wheelchair armrest when he stops to disconnect the limb from its charger. He huffs a laugh and pets her, and distractedly clicks the limb into place, looking at the fuzzy dog that's panting in his face. The distraction helps, and John seems to brighten.

Lately John wakes up before Dorian, and when she's sure that John is okay, she pads into the bedroom, jumps on the bed, takes John's place and is there when the DRN wakes.

He seems to always be slightly distressed when he unplugs from his charger, so she wiggles up close to him, puts her head on his chest and barks quietly. That helps, so she does it every morning. She _clearly_ is setting up a routine.

When Dorian walks into the living room looking for John, she knows to walk close and press against his legs because it seems to soothe him. She wiggles between their legs as they kiss in the kitchen, keeping watch.

She's there to brush against John's leg when he jumps as the toaster dings, the echoes of explosions in his mind. He feels the tickle of fur on his calf, and calms.

She's there when the television makes a sudden loud sound and Dorian's breath hitches in panic. She lays across his legs, and he grasps her fur. Vanilla also seems to know that Dorian's neuro-lights are something to look out for, because whenever she sees the blue, she's there.

They opt to not keep the vest on her when she's in the house because clearly she's still on guard whether she has it on or not. She isn't going to ignore John's minor PTSD ticks because she doesn't feel the vest snapped onto her. She's just as diligent either way.

And of course as she takes care of them, they take care of her too.

Dorian quickly researches the best dog food, and that's what Valerie and Richard bring for her when they drop off her supplies (well, Valerie drops off the supplies, Richard dumps the bags he's holding on the table and immediately joins Dorian on the floor to pet her. Valerie gets her turn, but at least she keeps her composure. Unlike Detective Paul.)

She has so many toys that Dorian has to make sure they don't end up all over the house, and John spoils her with treats when he thinks Dorian isn't looking (he sees John every single time, but opts to let him think he's succeeding in being covert.).

She gets frequent hugs from Dorian and scratches behind the ear from John. They both play tug of war with her.

The point is, they've all adjusted very well. They have a routine.

So Vanilla is obviously confused when the brown human goes into the bedroom without the one with the shiny leg, and obviously confused why the one with the shiny leg is tense and sitting on the couch alone. This isn't their routine. They all go to sleep together. Something is wrong. 

She also seems torn on who to comfort first, so she alternates between wiggling in next to John on the couch, and quietly pushing open the door and cuddling with Dorian. 

Vanilla doesn't like the television. It's big and loud and repeatedly scares her humans sometimes, so why do they keep sitting in front of it?

She's not sure, but she still sits with her coffee scented human as he watches before she pads off to curl up next to her light up human.

~

"Listen," Richards says, cutting off the interviewer, "Dorian is a great cop, okay? And just because he isn't who you consider important doesn't mean that he isn't _actually_ important and important to others, so your opinion doesn't mean shit. He's a great guy, and honestly," he pauses, "I wish I would have been nicer to him when he first showed up at our precinct. But the point is that we're friends now, and I won't let anyone talk about him like he's any less. The fact that this city even needs to be told this is a disgrace, honestly, and if anyone wants to get to Dorian at this point, they're going to have to go through a lot of people. Myself included. And pretty much our entire precinct. It's in the police board's best interest not to try or they're going to have the biggest shitstorm of the century on their hands. The board needs to focus on the _actual_ problems, which is the terrorist group InSyndicate. Let the people who care about Detective Dorian care for him, and go after the group that's been corrupting this city from the year 2020, instead of trying to kill a cop who was assaulted. This entire ordeal just proves how desensitized this city has gotten to violence and the pain of others. It's ridiculous, the fact that I even have to be on this show to defend my friend when he's clearly the victim is ridiculous, especially since he spends every day as a cop helping everyone else. But for some reason the city has to be convinced to defend and protect him? Does that not sound off to anyone else? Dorian is one of the most gentle people I've ever met. He's respectful to people he doesn't even _like_ , and he's honestly really cool to be around. He's a great cop and a great person and you'll have to go through all of us to get to him. And it won't end well for you." 

The pale faced interviewer signs off, thanks Detective Richard for talking with him, and the next segment starts.

John lets out a breath, and sits back on the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. Vanilla has disappeared, and is most likely with Dorian curled up on the bed keeping his partner company, and the house is dark except for the glow of the television screen. 

He didn't expect to end up calling Richard Paul a friend. Petty arguments and attitudes aside, he would have thought that the he and man were just too different to ever really get along. But now John knows he would be an absolute idiot to not call this man a friend. He's done so much for them, and John will honestly never be able to say thank you enough. 

His phone beeps. 

_You're up, Kennex_

He nods to no one in particular, and sends his response to Detective Paul before he can think too much about it.

_Thanks, Richard. Really._

John takes another deep breath and closes his eyes, turning off the television and sitting in the dark for a few moments. His face breaks out in a soft smile when he hears Dorian's muffled voice talking to Vanilla, and he can just imagine his partner laying in bed on his side, petting the fluffy white dog as she curls up next to him, silently keeping watch over him.

John's phone beeps again.

 _Shut up, John. Let's just kick it in the ass_.

He snorts a laugh, before feeling around in the dark to start up the charger for his leg, the the sound drawing Vanilla out of the room so she can comfort John like she always does when he has to sit in the wheelchair and disconnect the robotic leg. The room is dark but John can make out the white lump of fur as soon as he sits in his chair and disconnects the limb. He can also feel the brush of fur and the feel of the dog's panting breaths as she rests her front legs on the arm of the wheelchair when John connects the leg to the port. His hand subconsciously finds it way into her fur, and she happily trots beside him as he wheels himself into their bedroom and climbs into bed with his partner. Vanilla nudges the door closed with her nose.

Dorian opens his eyes when he feels John's weight next to his, and the DRN immediately curls into him, and the human wraps his arms around him.

Dorian doesn't say anything, but the question is in his eyes, along with the constant anxiety that plagues them on a day to day basis.

"Everything is fine, D." he murmurs as Vanilla jumps on the bed, "Everything is okay. It'll be okay."

Dorian graces him with a small smile, and runs his hands through John's messy hair until the dog lays across their legs instead of curling up where she usually does. 

"Vanilla, _no_." Dorian scolds, about to sit up and place her where she should be until John stops him with a hand on the DRN's waist.

"Let her." he smirks, "I don't care anymore." 

"Are you sure?" 

John nods. He knows the insecurity about his leg is irrational seeing as Dorian (and Vanilla) don't care. He's the _only_ one who has the problem with it. So hell, let the dog lay where she wants. No point being shy about it. 

"Okay." his partner says, shuffling closer to him.

John falls asleep with his partner in his arms and their dog happily snoozing on their legs.

~ 

Dorian is the first to wake up the next morning. 

He blinks his eyes open, peeks up at a still sleeping John, and unplugs himself from his charger. He doesn't want to wake the human. He needs as much sleep as possible. He considers just laying with John until he wakes up, but Vanilla has awakened also and her ears have perked up, her head has tilted and Dorian can only guess how _hungry_ she must be.

So he wiggles from under John's arm as gently as he can, leaving the warmth of their bed behind, and leads Vanilla out of the bedroom. He smiles when the dog stands up on her hind legs to pull the bedroom door closed. 

She wags her tail and follows Dorian to the cabinet where she knows they keep her food, and the DRN laughs lightly when the dog wiggles in excitement when she sees the bag. 

"Okay, Okay." Dorian says, pouring the proper amount of rood into the pale pink bowl, "Here you go." 

Vanilla barks softly in response and Dorian can't help but think how nice and calm this is. And how nice this would be if they weren't dealing with everything they were dealing with right now. Maybe one day it'll be this. Just _this_. Just letting John sleep late and feeding their dog. Just...life. Without all of the fear and danger hanging over their heads.

He hopes they get to that place in life soon.

~

John notices immediately that he wakes up alone. The other half of the bed is still slightly warm, so Dorian can't have gotten up too long ago, and he's worried until he hears his partner's quiet chuckling and Vanilla's happy, soft bark coming from the direction of the kitchen.

He relaxes.

And notices his phone is blinking.

John sighs and feels immediately overwhelmed. But he can't focus on that. The quicker he deals with everything coming their way the quicker he and Dorian can just...live. Minus the bullshit.

He has two messages. The first is from Valerie and Richard, letting him know that he's due to be on the news for his last interview tonight (and wow, those two really waste no time, huh?), and the second, startlingly, is from Sandra. He can't help but think it's really nice to hear her voice. It's been so long.

He's not too thrilled about what she's saying, though.

A private meeting. With the police board. Tomorrow.

They want him to bring Dorian.

Sandra will be in attendance.

John doesn't feel the fear and foreboding he thought he would. He knew this was coming, but somehow along the way he lost the general anxiety about Dorian being decommissioned. Mostly because they'll have to get through John to do it. And he simply won't let them do it. At this point it's just a fact of life. The sky is blue, water is wet, and John isn't going to let them decommission his partner again.

But he knows what this meeting is about. And he'll be damned if he's not prepared. A bunch of stiff politicians are _not_ going to run his life. Or Dorian's. Not anymore. As uncomfortable and fucking furious as it makes him to think about, they still own Dorian. He needs to change that. This meeting could be what he needs to do it.

They're going to tear it all down, but first, they need leverage.

John sits up and dials the first number that comes to mind.

"John?" 

"Rudy, listen." John says, running a hand through his sleep tousled hair, "I need a favor."

"Anything." the tech says without missing a beat.

Fuck. He really needs to thank Rudy more often. He's always... _there_. Willing to help in any way he can. He has enough heart to give a bit to everyone for _nothing_ in return and still have enough for himself. That's a skill not many people possess.

"I need you to dig up something on the police board. Something nasty that the public doesn't know. Something that will bring the world rioting outside their doors." 

"On it." Rudy answers quickly, "I'll call you when i find something--" 

"Wait!" John says hastily before the tech can hang up, "Rudy... _thanks_. For everything. Really. You're a great help and an even better friend. To me and Dorian. I don't tell you that enough, but it's true. So thank you." 

The other line is silent for a moment, and once Rudy seems to recover from the shock he sounds touched when he says, "No problem, John. You all mean a lot to me." 

"Yeah, well you mean a lot to us too, man." John answers, "Just...don't forget that." 

"I won't. I never will." Rudy says quietly.

"Good." John replies, "Thanks, Rudy."

"No problem." the scientist says, "I'll call you with anything I find."

The line goes dead. 

He really doesn't deserve all the fucking amazing people in his life, but he's going to appreciate them. It's the least he can do. He also needs to think about what he needs to say to move this things along during his interview tonight.

This is the last one he's doing.

He's so _over_ being the main hot topic of this city. It's time for this to come to a close. 

Their lives can no longer be for public consumption.

It's over.

It's getting about time to draw the curtain. 

~

He finds Dorian on the floor playing with Vanilla when he wheels himself into the main area to get his leg. Dorian looks up and beams at him like he's the sun, and John can't help but smile back. Then suddenly he has a face full of white fur tickling his skin, and Dorian's far off laughter ringing in his ears.

"Ah-- _move_ , you fucking fluffball." John grumbles without any real anger as he nudges the dog off of him and unplugs his leg, snapping it on and standing, shoving the wheelchair away. Dorian walks up to him and kisses him, and Vanilla wiggles between their legs, barking softly and wagging her tail.

"Good morning, John." Dorian mumbles as John wraps his arms around his waist.

"Hey, D." he says before he captures Dorian's lips again, smiling into the kiss when Dorian presses closer to him and wraps his arms around his neck.

This is what John wants. Kissing in the middle of their kitchen with their dog sitting between them and sunlight streaming through the windows. It's perfect, and John sighs happily at the taste of Dorian's mouth--

"I think your phone is ringing." Dorian says, pulling away and looking toward their bedroom where John left it.

He huffs and shrugs, still holding on to his partner, "They can leave a message." 

"What if it's important?" the DRN asks, looking up at him, and John throws his head back dramatically and groans while Dorian laughs at him because he's _right_.

"Go on," his partner says, "Take your call. We'll be out here." 

John grumbles and lets go of Dorian--who chuckles as he huffs and slumps away--and kicks the door to the bedroom closed before snatching up the infernal ringing thing and looking at the number.

Unknown.

Unknown? Unknown number are something from like, the early 2000s. There are no _unknown_ numbers anymore. It just doesn't happen. Even if he didn't have the number saved in his contacts it would at least display the phone number itself. What the hell _is_ this?

He's inclined to just say fuck it and not take it at all, but after a few moments curiosity wins out, and John answers with a gruff, "Who is this." 

"Kennex."

The voice is bratty and obviously female.

"Celeste?" 

"Wow, you _are_ a detective." she sniffs, and John feels the stress headache building already.

"Why are you calling me?" he grumbles, "And how the hell did you get this number?" 

He hears her snort, "I'm a hacker. I know everything. I can get my hands on anything I want. _Anyway_ , just thought I'd make contact and see how things were going, but seeing as you're being an ass--" 

"You're a hacker?" he says incredulously.

"Good _God_ , Kennex." she groans, "How did you even make detective?"

John opens his mouth to respond (and probably send an insult her way in retaliation) before the thought strikes him like lightning.

"Okay, _wait_. Shut up, kid." he says hastily, "I'll get you back for that statement later. I have a favor to ask you. Two, actually." 

"This better be something relevant to the shitstorm this city is going through and not a request for me to pick up your dry cleaning, John." she snarks, and he can basically see her green eyes narrowing.

How did he end up running into such a smartass?

"No, you can do that later." he smirks, and he hears her huff, "First, I need to ask you something." 

"What is it?" she says impatiently.

"If you wanted to," he starts, "could you remove everything about the video and what happened to Dorian from the internet? All of it? Every copy of the video, every article about it, every news report, just...every _trace_ of it--" 

"Yeah, totally." she chirps, "I'll need to gather some of my associates because if I do it alone it'll take forever, but we can make it so any evidence of it is nil. We can also make it so anyone who tries to write anything about it or re-upload anything about it won't be able to." 

"Shit, really?" John asks.

"Yes _grandpa_ ," she smirks, "It's possible." 

John grumbles at her before he sighs and says, "Great. Can you do that for us then?" 

"Yeah. Messaging people now." she answers, and he can here the lightning fast tapping of fingers on a keyboard, "And the other thing you wanted?" 

"Ah, yeah--I have a friend, Rudy Lom, who is looking for some dirt on the police board. Something that they would want to keep hidden forever. I was wondering if you could help with that." 

"Yep. I can multitask." she answers, sounding slightly distracted, "Does your friend have a nueroserver? If he does this will go a lot faster." 

"I have no idea what that means. But probably." he says, "His lab is at the church by the 133rd precinct." 

"I know where that is." she says, "I'll pay him a visit. See if I can set up there. Call him and tell him I'm coming, yeah? I don't need to get shot because someone thinks I'm trespassing or some shit like that."

" _Language_ , kid." John chastises, "And yeah, I'll tell him. Also, these...associates of yours...are they--?" 

"They're cool." she says, "And they can keep their mouths shut. Also did you just tell me to mind my language? Wow, gramps."

John rolls his eyes. Okay, he walked into that one.

"Call you when I find something." she says, and he can hear rustling over the line, "Until then sit tight and don't break anything grandpa John."

"You litt--"

The line does dead.

"Brat." he finishes to himself.

But this is good. Removing everything that has to do with this is something he didn't expect to be able to do, but now that it's possible it's the best thing he's been told in a while. They can _erase_ this.

At least, from the internet. Which, aside from Dorian's trauma, is the thing that's keeping the humiliation and publicity of the story circulating. When they remove it, no one will be able to find anything about it. It'll be gone. Forever.

It'll be _gone_.

And fuck, that means a lot. It's going to mean a lot to _Dorian_. 

No one will be able to find anything on the single most horrific event in his life. They won't be able to read about it, watch it...no search results will come up for his assault. And soon, the city will move on like it always does, and it will be forgotten.

Since technology boomed people's attention spans have shortened to that of when something stops being talked about, it's _basically_ gone. The world moves so fast, and as soon as this is over it'll be on to the next story.

Dorian won't have to walk around feeling like everyone knows. He doesn't have to walk around humiliated and ashamed.

John's so fucking happy about that that his legs can barely hold him because of all the relief pressing down on him, and he sits on the bed and leans back with an exhale when his back hits the sheets.

Finally. Another win.

~

"And...they're doing this right now?" Dorian asks, looking up at John from under his arm as they sit on the couch. 

"Yeah, D." John says, "There'll be no trace. At all." 

The DRN is silent for a moment, and John tries not to panic at the sudden quiet but instead take in their current position. Dorian under his arm with a hand in the fur of the dog looking up at them questioningly from her spot on the android's lap. Vanilla looks like she's trying to gauge whether or not she needs to intervene and comfort somebody.

John is doing the exact same thing.

Both of their attentions are on Dorian. 

They watch him closely as he starts absentmindedly petting Vanilla, and John is about to say something to (hopefully) soothe him before the DRN cuts him off. 

"That's..." he says, voice thick, "That's very nice of them." he finishes, and he sounds somewhat like he's about to cry. 

"People care, D." John says, softly. Dorian doesn't respond, just presses closer to him. Vanilla deems this a situation that requires her attention, so she shoves her cold, wet nose into the DRN's face, ears perking up when the android lets out a watery laugh. They sit there for a while, and John smiles at his small family.

They're _perfect_. And they're _his_. 

John's really fucking lucky.

~

"I have to do an interview tonight," John says from the kitchen where he stands making his third cup of coffee, pretty much jumping out of his skin--breath hitching--when the coffee maker dings. He feels the brush of fur against his leg.

He calms. 

"I...don't know, John." Dorian says, looking at him from the couch, chin rested on the back of it, "I'm not sure it's a good idea. What if...if you get taken again?" 

"I won't, D." the human says, shoving a fourth of a rainbow sprinkled doughnut in his mouth, "It'll be fine. And to be fair, I _was_ okay after that."

"You could have _died_ , John!" Dorian says, eyes wide, "And--and you got hurt, remember?"

"A few bruises, D."

"Still..."

"Would it make you feel better if I asked Val and Richard to come with me?"

Dorian opens his mouth to argue before he considers what his partner has just said.

"Yes, actually." he concedes, looking less alarmed, "That would make me feel better."

"Then I'll ask them. My thing is, will you be okay alone here?" John asks, worry coloring his tone, "I could--"

"I'll be fine." Dorian says, "I'll have Vanilla."

"Yeah," John answers, worry still in his voice, "but...Oh, Rudy and that girl Celeste are going to be at the lab. We could drop you off there."

"John--"

"D, _please_." he pleads, "It would make me feel better."

The DRN considers it, petting Vanilla who rests in his lap, "Okay." he says after a moment, "Vanilla could use some time out of the house." 

John takes a sip of coffee, "Yeah, I think she'd like the lab. A lot of things to..." he waves a hand, doughnut crumbs dropping onto the counter, "sniff...and stuff." 

Dorian snorts and rolls his eyes, moving to sit on the floor with Vanilla before grabbing the biting rope they play tug of war with and starting a game.

John has 4 hours before he has to be on live television where everything he says is crucial to their lives and how it turns out.

John ditches his coffee and joins his small family on the floor.

~

"This tie?" John says, looking at his partner.

Dorian tilts his head and squints, before shaking his head, "Too blue." 

John sighs and take it off. He's wearing black jeans, a black button down, and a black blazer, and for some reason can't seem to find the right fucking _tie_ \-- 

"Don't wear a tie." Dorian says, eyeing him, "It ruins it." 

He stops, "Really?" 

The DRN nods, "The outfit is more aesthetically pleasing without it." 

"Okay then." John says, closing the closet. 

Dorian is already dressed, and Vanilla already has her service vest on and holding her leash in her mouth. John tried to take it from her to carry it himself, but she refused to give it to him. She probably wants to hold it so they don't forget it.

This dog is more put together and organized than them _both_. 

"Okay." John says, checking himself in the mirror one last time, "Richard and Val are going to meet us at Rudy's lab. Then we're taking their car, to the TV station. Just in case anything happens and you need to leave the lab, you'll have the keys." 

Dorian nods--taking the leash from a very resistant Vanilla and attaching it to her collar before taking the handle--before he says, "You look good in all black." 

"Really?" John says, raising his eyebrows, "You think so?" 

Dorian smiles, "Yeah." 

"Thanks, D." he says, kissing him softly and savoring the content sigh the DRN makes before he takes his hand and leads them outside. 

It's cool, but not too cold, and Vanilla seems thrilled to be out in the air. She even seems excited to be put in the back seat, tongue out and tail wagging as she watches her owners get in the front and start the car. 

She makes a startled sound when the car moves, but then she settles down and rests on the seat, ears relaxed. 

"I've been reading the information Rudy gave me." Dorian says quietly, and John looks at him, eyes wide, "I haven't gotten through all of it. Or even most of it, but...I think I'd want to activate the code." 

"Okay." John says, breathless, "It's all up to you, D. We're fine with anything you choose. Aren't we, Vanilla?"

Dorian laughs at the soft bark the dog responds with.

"I'm not sure though. I'm just...I'm thinking about it." the DRN adds slowly.

"Take your time, D." John says, taking his hand and keeping one on the wheel, "No rush. This is about you. No one else."

"I don't know...John." Dorian starts, "It'll impact you too, and I...I have to consider that."

John nods in understanding. Because even if something big were his decision to make, he would still consider how it would affect Dorian, so he gets it. He does.

"Okay, D." 

"John?" 

"Hm?"

"About this interview...just..." Dorian looks at him with blatant worry, "Be careful, okay? Please." 

"I will." John says, sneaking a glance at his partner and squeezing his hand in reassurance.

The rest of the drive is comfortably quiet, but John doesn't let go of Dorian's hand. 

The DRN looks out of the window, the city lighting up the night in tiny pinpricks of explosive color from streetlights, apartment windows and the few stars they can see in the sky through the smog. He doesn't know how he feels about this place anymore. Part of him wants to never see it again. Part of him never wants to leave. 

They park in front of Rudy's lab, the church lit up in the night like a beacon, and John opens the door for Vanilla, watching as she takes the handle of her leash in her mouth and walks up to Dorian--standing beside the passenger door he just got out of--and offers it to him. He closes the car doors, locks it, and looks on as his partner smiles and takes the leash being offered to him.

~

Again, like the other night, every light is blazing in the lab and John has to quint to be able to see as his eyes adjust. 

But as soon as they do, he can see Rudy sitting at a desk he must have pulled from off to the side, surrounded by computers with wires running to different parts of the room.

Celeste sits close by with he same setup. Ellie sits curled up next to her, her head on the redhead's shoulder, black curls flying about. 

The lab seems to making a steady humming and beeping sound.

 _Jesus_.

This is more computers than he's seen in the _precinct_.

"Ah, Dorian!" Rudy says, looking up for a millisecond and giving the DRN a smile before returning to his vigorous typing on the multiple keyboards that surround him, "I hear you'll be gracing us with your soothing presence this evening."

"Yes." Dorian smiles, "If that's okay." 

Rudy doesn't look up (and _Jesus_ , John has never seen him so focused before) but says, "Nonsense. You're always welcomed here, my friend." 

"So how's it coming?" John asks, strolling over.

"No!" Celeste says, "Don't come any closer you'll fuck up the wiring." 

" _Language_ , kid." John admonishes, and the girl looks at him with a withering expression.

"It's actually moving along very well, very quickly. Celeste, here, has quite a large group of very _talented_ friends. Scattered all over the globe, apparently. All working with us, right now." Rudy cuts in, still not looking up from his computer screen, "We should have it all off the web by tomorrow afternoon if we keep working."

"Which we intend to do." Celeste adds, and Rudy nods without halting his typing, "And it'll only take an extra hour or two to put up the protocols that will identify and prohibit anyone from posting new articles, written word, or video about it. It'll be completely gone. Forever. I'm in contact with everyone who's helping us. So it shouldn't be long."

John beams, "Fuck. You guys are awesome."

"We're aware." Rudy and Celeste answer in tandem.

Geez, these two share a few hours with each other and multiple computers and they're already saying the same things at the same time, John thinks.

The door slams open and closed right as John rolls his eyes at Celeste and Rudy, and he spins around to find Valerie and Richard walking up to them.

"What's going on _here_?" Valerie asks, looking around at the chaos.

John blows out a breath, "It's a long story, I'll fill you in on the way."

"Cool." Richard says, before turning to Dorian, "Hey Dorian, how're you doing?"

"I'm okay." the DRN smiles, shrugging.

"Good." he answers, "Hey Vanilla, who's a good girl?" 

Valerie rolls her eyes and gives Dorian a tight hug while Richard occupies himself with the dog, and John sees Ellie stir and blink open big, tired, brown eyes.

"Hey, Dorian." Valerie says once they've separated.

"Hey Val."

The woman smiles, "You looks like your doing a bit better."

The DRN beams, "I am. Thank you for everything."

"No problem," Valerie says, "We're gonna win this. I meant it when I said you guys are my family."

Dorian's eyes soften, "You're my family too."

Stahl laughs brightly and hugs him again.

Once she lets go and goes to greet John, Dorian feels another presence next to him and turns to see Ellie, smiling happily and waving at him, eyes bright.

~ _Hello, Ellie!_ ~ he signs, hugging the small girl before signing, ~ _How are you?~_

 _~Fine. Just bored watching all this computer stuff. I'm more of an artist, myself. How are you? Have you been doing well? Is this your dog?~_ , Ellie responds, fingers moving quickly. 

 _~Yes. Her name is Vanilla and she's a service dog. She helps me when I panic. I've been okay. Better.~_ Dorian tell her. 

 _~Yay! Glad to hear that!~_ Ellie signs, eyes bright and smile wide.

John watches the pair have their conversation until Valerie nudges him.

"We should head out now. Don't want to be late." 

John nods, walking up to Dorian and trying not to be alarmed when two pairs of eyes suddenly turn and look at him.

"Sorry to interrupt." he says to Ellie, and she reads his lips, nods and waves a hand dismissively. She signs something to Dorian. 

"She says it's no problem." Dorian translates, looking at John. 

"Thanks." John smiles at her., before looking at Dorian, "We're about to go." 

"Oh," the DRN says, looking at Valerie and Richard who are saying their goodbyes to Rudy, "Okay. Be careful, John." 

"Of course, D." he soothes, before he kisses him and takes his hand, "I'll be back before you know it." 

Dorian looks at him for a moment, slight worry evident in his eyes, "Okay." 

"Okay." John repeats, giving him one more kiss on the cheek.

He waves at Ellie, and says his goodbyes to Rudy and Celeste, and with one last squeeze of Dorian's hand, he's back out into the cool night.

~

He tells them about the actions they're taking to wipe the internet.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Valerie says, eyes on the road, "First the dog, now this. I'm losing my touch." 

"That's fucking great, though." Richard says from the passengers's seat, "Good idea." 

John sits back and rubs a hand down his face. He's seated in the back of Richard's car, and something about the arrangement makes him feel like a kid being driven to soccer practice or something. 

The ride ends up being a lot shorter than he expected, and the nerves John was expecting to feel never show up. He's not nervous. He's...determined.

Determined to bring this to an end.

Determined to get his life back and for Dorian to _have_ a life.  A good one.

He's going to say what he needs to, and anyone who has a problem with it can fight him outside afterwards. Fuck. He's so _done_ being afraid and so _done_ being nervous and anxious. No more.

He's taking it all back. For himself. For Dorian. For them.

It's time to end this.

It's the final act of this _horrible_ play. And then John is pulling the curtain closed as the audience rises to go home.

They're nearing the end.

~

The television station is packed. It's the first thing John notices. It's also the only thing he notices because he just doesn't _care_. He doesn't _care_ to take in the chrome walls or the set where he'll be interviewed. He doesn't _care_ about remembering the interviewer's name. He doesn't _care_ about knowing which camera to look into or who the fucking sound guy is. He doesn't _care_. It doesn't matter.

He's here to say his piece then leave. No one else's opinion or input matters.

He can't slowly stroll and take in the sights or what's happening. He has someone to get back to. So let's make this quick, he thinks.

And as the prepping goes on John feels himself getting _extremely_ annoyed because while these people...these _reporters_ , have been in this lavish (and quite frankly, tacky) television studio, his partner has been going through hell. The people he cares about most have been running themselves ragged trying to help them and put the world back together again.

And _these_ people, in _this_ building, have just been sipping lattes and telling their story.

John feels his jaw clench, and he sees Valerie look at him in a silent question out of the corner of his eye while he gets mic'd up. He has the urge to push the person away from him, but he refrains and allows him to pin the tiny mic onto his blazer.

They start telling John about the set. He couldn't care less.

John is only biting his tongue because Valerie and Richard are here, and should he start yelling and punching people, their reputations would be at stake too. That's the only thing that's stopping him from just telling the guy with the handlebar mustache who is talking at him that he doesn't _care_.

At all.

They direct him to a seat, and John can feel his face settling into that mask of indifference that feels so familiar. He's so _annoyed_ and apathetic to what is going on around him, and his mind is so _only_ on his goal and getting back to Dorian as soon as possible, that if someone asked him to describe the desk he's sitting at right now, he's sure he couldn't.

He hears the countdown, the reporter taking his seat next to him, and the light of the camera on his face.

"Good evening," the blond man next to John says, looking into the camera in front of him, "Tonight we are joined by Detective Kennex, who has agreed to talk to us about the precinct bombing, InSyndicate and DRN-0--"

"His name is Dorian." John deadpans, cutting him off and looking at him with dead eyes, "Call him by his name."

The man sputters, thrown off of his opening monologue by John's interruption, "W-well," the man says, "It's a _robot_."

John's eyes narrow and his blood starts to boil because they've been through this so many _fucking_ times and he is so fucking done with explaining the same shit to these _stupid fucking imbeciles_ over and over and _over_ again.

"And _you're_ essentially just a slab of meat, bones and blood." John says icily, eyes hard, "Does that mean I can call _you_ anything outside of _your_ name?"

The man blinks at him in shock, "B-but I'm _human_."

John laughs humorlessly, "Yeah, that means jack _shit_."

He hears Richard snort from somewhere off to the side.

The blond startles and licks his lips nervously, "Uh-so," he starts, trying to get his bearings, "S-so you believe that your partner ah-Dorian, is equal to a human?"

"Oh, you gathered that?" he says sarcastically, "Yes, Einstein, I do. Next question."

God, he's so sick of them having to explain the same simple concepts over and over again. He's been a broken record for _months_.

"Uhm. Okay." the blond stutters, "So y-you defend the brutal murder you committed--"

"What? _The InSyndicate member?_ " John says in disbelief, "He was a killer and a rapist and the world is better off without him. Did I make a mess? _Yep_. But he hurt someone I cared about and no doubt countless others. What you all witnessed me do to that piece of garbage is what cops in this city are basically doing to rid the city of people like him and protect pencil necks like _you_ " John says, pointing to him, "from being abducted and dismembered on the way to your car at night. No one was complaining when the crime rate stopped steadily rising. I did my job. _Jesus_ , did you come up with these questions?" 

The man nods, eyes the size of saucers.

"Let me see those." John says, snatching his holo-cards from him and flipping through them, "Wow, all of these questions are _garbage_." 

The studio gets deadly quiet, and he can hear Valerie trying (and failing) to hold back laughter from from off set. The reporter's breath hitches and he shrinks away from John, looking offended.

"Okay." John says, throwing the holo-cards to the side where they scatter on the floor, "This isn't an interview, anymore. This is a PSA. So listen up. I'm really done being nice about this. And repeating myself over and over again. So I'm going to say it one _final_ time. Any being that has feelings is relevant and deserves respect. Anyone who is sentient is entitled to the privileges that label entails. My partner, a DRN, and someone I care for very much, is worthy of the same respect and privileges as any human--" 

"But--" the reporter starts, outraged.

John holds up a hand and silences him, "If you interrupt me again your head is going up your own ass."

The blond balks and pales.

"As I was saying," John continues, "because my partner is a sentient being worthy of all the privileges that are associated with being such living being, I am treating this as any other rape case in conjunction with assault of an officer because it _is_. And once this is over, you will all _move the fuck on_. I will not let anyone talk about my partner like he's just a _thing_. He is loved by a lot of people, including _myself_ , so if you have something disgusting to say, feel free to say it to me when you see me around town. See what happens to you _then_. Dorian is a better person than most humans I know, but you all sit around debating about whether he matters or not like your opinions _mean_ anything.", he says, "Your opinions don't fucking matter. They never did. Because _human_ isn't the end-all be-all, and you're lying to yourself if you think that's true. _No one_ is decommissioning my partner, and _no one_ is taking him away from the people who care about him. No matter what the hell anyone thinks. The next few things I'm about to say are for my very _dedicated_ fanbase otherwise known as InSyndicate." 

"Oh _shit_." he hears Richard whisper from off to the side.

"You _failed_ to kill me the first time. And that was a _big_ mistake on your part. But then you hurt my _partner_ , which is an even _bigger_ mistake on your part. And then you failed to kill me _again_. You all keep spewing empty threats about how you're gonna come after me, and take off my head and whatever the fuck else. And yet, here I am. You've done _nothing_. Are you even as formidable as you're trying to convince this city you are? You've made an open threat, and yet haven't carried it out. So you really want me? Come and get me. If you can find me. _You fucking cowardly, filthy, lowlife bastards._ " 

He throws off his mic and leaves. 

This is it.

The final act.

They're all taking their last bow.

The stage lights are dimming.

The audience is leaving.

He's pulling the curtain.

They're nearing the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as it's been said several times in this chapter, we're nearing the end, you guys. This has been an incredible journey and I'm so glad you all stuck with me through this. I've enjoyed every second.
> 
> Let's enjoy these last few chapters together, okay?
> 
> Once more unto the breach! Once more!


	50. Chapter 50

The temperature of the air outside seems to have dropped about ten degrees.

John doesn't notice.

He's said all that he needs to say to these people--to this city, and now he's going to speak through actions.

No more interviews.

He has things to do.

He stops outside of the TV station to catch his breath, and he savors it, because he won't be able to just stand on the street and enjoy the stillness of the cold and the dark for a while. 

Life is about to start moving. Fast.

John takes a breath, feels the chilly air fill his lungs, then exhales in mist.

And then it's all back in motion.

Valerie and Richard catch up with him, both of them talking at the same time. They seem to be saying different variations of ' _what the hell Kennex_ ' and as he's about to respond John's cell starts to ring. 

Okay, phone _first_ , then.

"Rudy, what's up?"

"John. I found something. Something _big_." Rudy says nervously, "Get back here. _Now_."

"There in five."

The signal cuts and John smirks knowingly as Valerie rolls her eyes and tosses him her car keys.

"You know you just brought the shitstorm down on your head." She tells him, and she doesn't look angry _or_ afraid, she looks more excited, like this is the part she's been waiting for, "This is pretty much the end of this. _All_ of it. InSyndicate as a whole, possibly."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Kennex." Richard says, and there's a glint of excitement and anticipation in his eye as well.

"You guys don't have to do this." He says, turning to look at them. He knows what he's done. And he knows that at this time tomorrow he could be dead. But that doesn't mean they have to fall with him.

"You can jump ship." He says, "You don't have to--"

"Shut up, John." Stahl interrupts, a ghost of a smile on her lips, "You think I would have joined the force if I wasn't up for half-assed plans and bad decisions? You aren't a lone ranger here, and besides, I like the action just as much as you do. So don't thank me. I want to be here, I want to help, and I want to do this."

"I basically second everything she said." Richard agrees, "I'm always down for some extreme peril for an adrenaline rush. Nothing like making it by the skin of your teeth."

John snorts, "So you two are ready for the gunfire, definite mortal danger and possibly lost limbs?"

Richard folds his arms, "Sounds fun."

"My kind of Wednesday." Valerie adds, smiling lightly.

"You both are insane." John says as they quickly get in the car.

"And so are you." Richard shoots from the passenger's seat.

"Then I guess it's lucky we all found each other, huh?" Valerie says, voice tinged with faint emotion, "We're really lucky." She finishes, getting comfortable in the back seat.

The air takes on a comforting and particular kind of warmth. The kind of feeling you get when you're surrounded by family that aren't your blood, but are even _better_.

Because they're the family you _chose_.

John pulls off the curb with a screech.

~

"Rudy!" John says, barging through the lab doors followed by Valerie and Richard, "What did you find?"

The scene has changed slightly since they'd left. The number of computers and wires seems to have doubled, and Vanilla sits on a folded, plush blanket Rudy found (probably because he ends up sleeping here sometimes, John is sure) and he notices that Ellie and Dorian seem to be missing.

Rudy startles and Celeste doesn't even look up from her typing, but Rudy frantically grabs a tablet and gingerly picks his way through all the wiring to reach them.

Rudy just decides to jump into it, seeing as they _really_ don't have too much time.

"When crime and technology boomed in 2020, it was a huge problem for the police force." He says, "People were beginning to think that the police were outdated and no longer necessary. After all, why waste time calling a police officer when you have your new smart home to take care of intruders or have a drone that can follow you and tranquilize anyone who threatens your well-being? That, compounded with the disturbing rise in police shootings killing unarmed innocents--mostly African Americans--the people in this city were through with the police force. Which is understandable seeing as the fact that fellow citizens are being shot down left and right by those that are supposed to protect and serve doesn't exactly inspire any trust."

"I remember hearing about that when I was a kid." Valerie adds thoughtfully, "The rise in unarmed citizens killed by police tripled in about a decade between 2012 and 2020."

Rudy nods, "Exactly. So, with the police department on the brink of losing all power, influence and jurisdiction, the powers that be, meaning the current police board led by a certain city council member named Mark Tanner, were in a tight spot. But," he continues, tapping on the tablet, "they weren't going to let their power and influence go. So what were they to do? What would make the citizens look to _them_ for protection again?"

"Shit." Richard says as he realizes what Rudy is getting at, "You _make_ a threat. If the people aren't looking to the police force for safety you _engineer_ a threat that has them running to you again."

"InSyndicate." John breathes in horror, "They _created_ InSyndicate."

Rudy nods gravely.

The group quiets in dawning realization and shock. The tension in the air is _heavy_ and _thick_ and they're all _choking_ on it.

"What the fuck." Valerie moans in disgust, pinching the bridge of her nose.

John takes a shaky breath. This entire time his job has been secured by fucking _savage_ means. He was able to still be a cop because these politicians started a gang that has _killed_ and _terrorized_ the people of this city.

He feels like vomiting.

"Jesus." Richard whispers, "I--I mean...I think we all knew that our government was corrupt but-- _Jesus_."

"I have the files right here. Contracts upon contracts upon contracts signed by every politician on the board, handing advanced technology and weapons to them after banding every existing gang in the city together to create InSyndicate." He says, fear plain on his face, "You take _this_." 

Rudy hands the tablet to John, "You're going to need it. I've made about 3 million backups using my neuroserver. They will never be able to erase this. Even if they try to take that tablet from you, there's so many other copies it won't matter."

"They're the reason for the raid." John says quietly, looking down at the tablet, "They're the reason for the fact that this city has been cowering to those criminals for over two decades."

"I might be sick." Valerie sighs, running a frustrated hand through her hair, "So many people have _died_. And all because a bunch of old white men wanted power."

"History always repeats itself." Richard deadpans, "This does make something easier though. Now we know something they would do anything to keep secret. Dorian is basically saved already. We have information to dangle over their heads. If we decide to use it to blackmail them, or if we expose it to the public Dorian is off the chopping block no matter what."

"He's right." Stahl says, "We can blackmail them or expose this. They fall apart if we make this public because if they aren't hunted down and killed for revenge for destroying the city they'll be forced off the council and imprisoned. We're home free either way."

"Change of plans." John says, eyes hard, "We're taking this public. People deserve to know."

Richard nods, "Good call."

"I'm contacting Maldonado and telling her to get down here."  Valerie calls behind her as she walks away, taking out her phone and heading quickly to a quieter part of the lab, "She needs to know. She'd want to help."

John nods and is about to respond before Rudy takes his arm and leans in.

"Also, Dorian was watching your interview with Ellie in the back, and uh--" Rudy shifts uncomfortably, "He didn't take your invitation for InSyndicate to find and kill you too well."

 _Fuck_.

Rudy grimaces, "Ellie is calming him down, but, ah--once he knows you're here--"

" _John_!" 

John winces and turns to see Dorian striding up to him with that look that tells him  _he's so fuckin in for it--_

"What were you _thinking_?!" The DRN asks, face lighting up in blue.

"D, I have a plan--"

"Does that plan include you getting _killed_?" he snaps, "Because that's what it sounds like! It sounds like you _invited_ them to come and _kill_ you."

"This needs to be done--"

"Why do you insist on making me watch you die?" Dorian says desperately, and John reaches for him and takes his hand.

"D." John says quietly, looking into blue eyes, "I'm not going to leave you. Ever. But I have to do this."

"No, you don't--"

"This is _bigger_ than me, D. And--"

" _Well nothing is more important to me than you_. So that means nothing to me. I don't care how big and important this is, it's not _worth_ your life!"

"D--"

"They are dead set on murdering you, John! So you _provoke_ them?" Dorian cries, eyes wide and fearful.

John gently takes his face in his hands and looks him in the eye, "This is what I'm willing to do for you, Dorian. And I'm sorry, if it's for you I have to do it. You won't be able to stop me."

" _You aren't supposed to die for me!_ " The DRN hisses, eyes watering, "It's supposed to be me that--"

"Don't you _fucking_ dare." John says, cutting him off, "That's not how it is anymore and you know it. You're _not_ a bullet catcher. You never _were_. So don't try to use that now. I'll be _damned_ if there is something I could do for you to make this better and I chose not to do it."

The DRN shakes his head and bites back tears.

"You're going make me sit idly by and watch as I lose you." Dorian says, taking a shaky, fragile breath, "I can't do that, John...I can't. John, _please don't make me do that_."

And if this was for _anything_ else, anything else in the _world_ John would have given in so quickly his head would have spun. If this was _anything_ else he would have looked into those scared, lovesick blue eyes and given in in a heartbeat. He would have given Dorian anything he wanted.

But he _can't_. He can't do what his partner wants. Not this time.

And John _hates_ that part of this plan is breaking Dorian's heart and putting himself on the line. But he has to.

He's willing to do that. For the blue-eyed being standing in front of him with watery eyes and traces of blue whizzing down his cheek. For the guy who draws on the fog of car windows and is perfectly content with playing tug of war with Vanilla for hours on end. For the DRN who he kisses every morning when he wakes up and every night before he goes to sleep.

He's willing to do anything.

He'd set the world on fire.

"I'm sorry, Dorian." John says, and his heart cracks when Dorian angrily wrenches himself away from him.

They stand a foot apart, John looking at the DRN and Dorian looking at the floor, his breathing shaky.

"I'd rather you hate me and be safe--even if I die--than you be happy with my decision and be decommissioned." He says, looking at his partner.

Shit. He _loves_ Dorian. So fucking much it _hurts_. But he can't give him what he wants right now. No matter how much he wants to wipe that betrayed, angry, anguished look off of his face.

"You being alive is more important." John says, never taking his eyes off of him, "And I'm not sorry about my decision. I am sorry that it's making you upset. But it's for you and I'm going to do it. I'm sorry, D."

Dorian looks up at him, and tear making its way down his cheek and eyes full of anger, love and fear...and walks away.

The door to Rudy's back room slams behind him, and John can only emit a slightly defeated sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration.

Richard looks at him from where he's taken a seat on a stool not too far from where Dorian was standing moments before and glances at the door his partner disappeared through.

"So I guess you're in the doghouse, huh?"

John groans, "If I survive this I'm going to be on the couch until the end of time." 

"You're _going_ to survive." Valerie says, walking up to them and slipping her phone in her pocket, "Don't worry, you'll be able to get to know your couch really well."

John groans again and throws his head back, "Very funny."

"Sandra's on her way. She was confused as to why I was calling her at almost 2 in the morning but she's coming." Stahl tells him thoughtfully, looking at the room Dorian fled to.

She furrows her brow, "I'll go talk to him."

And before John can say a word, she's gone.

"Trouble in paradise?" Celeste says with raised eyebrows from her place in the middle of a dozen or so screens a few feet from him, "You're _so_ gay." She adds with an eye roll.

John narrows her eyes at her before pointing at the picture she and Ellie make, all huddled together in front of the computers, Ellie with her head on her girlfriend's shoulder, "So are _you_."

The redhead shrugs in a silent response that's clearly supposed to mean 'you got me there' and says, "He'll understand. Plus, it's not like it's written in _stone_ you'll die."

John sighs, "There's a good chance I might, though."

Celeste blinks and stops typing for a second to run a finger down her dozing girlfriend's cheek in thought, "There's also a good chance you _won't_."

"She's right." Richard adds, "You've got a team." he shrugs and folds his arms, "Your odds are pretty good. We don't even know when they'll come after you."

"I hope you're right." John says with a humorless smirk, "Because if I die Dorian is going to kill me."

The sound of the door opening and closing cuts off Richard's response, and John turns in alarm to be faced with the sight of Captain Maldonado walking towards them, suit pristine and hair in a neat ponytail.

She looks more put together than all of them _put together._

She strides in and stops in front of them all, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. She looks tired, but determined. Kind of like the rest of them.

She takes in the scene before her.

"So. What's been going on?"

~

It takes about two hours to fill Sandra in. 

And John feels slightly guilty because he's sure him going off the map for so long has caused a _ton_ of trouble for her, and also because this is a shit ton of information to take in and process all at once.

But she does.

By the time they finish telling her everything it's 4 am.

" _Fuck_." She sighs, head in her hand and elbows on her knees, "I've been working for the bastards that created one of the worst terrorist groups in America. _Shit_."

"We all have." Valerie says.

"I knew they were assholes but..." Sandra pauses and lets out a breath, " _God_."

The room falls into silence save for the tapping of the keys of the computers, and they all look to Sandra because yeah, John has been the one who decided the next move, but _Sandra_ is the _real_ leader. Their captain.

So they wait for orders.

The woman thinks for a while, and John is sure he can actually _hear_ the gears of her mind turning until she looks at them and says, "Okay, this is what we're going to do."

They lean in and listen carefully.

"The board meeting is at 7 am. That's three hours, which is just enough. Valerie, you come with me. Richard stay with John and Dorian until I call you and tell you to bring them to the council building. Rudy--"

The tech's head peers around a computer screen.

"--dump the information about the board and InSyndicate online when I text you and tell you to do so."

Rudy nods.

She stands, and Valerie appears at her side, "Okay John, you and Dorian sit tight."

Every single part of him wants to argue and throw himself into the plan and help, but he bites his tongue and nods before the captain leads Valerie out of the building.

"Wonder what they're doing..." Richard muses, looking towards the door.

And John can't help but wonder the same thing

So he's stuck here until he's needed. John didn't plan on being stagnate at any part of the plan when he thought it up after the interview, but here he is in Rudy's lab that's silent except for the rapid tapping of fingers on keys.

John runs a hand down his face, "I'm gonna go check on Dorian."

"Good luck." Richard says.

~

John doesn't remember ever really going into the back room of the lab. He'd been in the upper floors when Rudy showed him Dorian for the first time (and god, that was so long ago), but never this part of it.

He hopes the door is open, and feels a small and fleeting sense of victory when it turns out that it is, and he steps inside to find what looks like a fully furnished guest room. If John hadn't walked past a dozen robotic butterflies on the way here he would think he was in a house.

There's a dresser, a night-table...a bed.

With a DRN on it. And a mass of fluff draped over him.

Dorian is on his side facing the wall, and John can't help but think about how Dorian sleeps in _their_ bed, and how if this goes sideways he'll never be able to lay next to him again. Or kiss him. Or feel Dorian rest his head on his chest.

John clenches his jaw. He'll make it. He _has_ to. There's no other option.

He won't leave Dorian. 

"D?"

Vanilla perks up and acknowledges his presence, but Dorian hesitates before he turns on his other side to face him.

The DRN's face is red and John hates the fact that he's the reason why.

But he can't and won't change his mind.

"I'm sorry for walking off like that." Dorian says, throwing John for a loop, "I just...I'm scared, John."

"I know." John says quietly, climbing on the bed next to him and throwing an arm around his waist, "I know. I'm sorry. For all of this."

"Wasn't your fault." Dorian murmurs, gently running the back of his hand over John's cheek.

"Still sorry." he answers.

And that's how they stay. So close they're on the brink of kissing, wrapped around each other and soaking in each other's warmth. John tells Dorian the plan, and the DRN nods and presses closer, running his hand through John's hair. Just savoring being _close_.

John holds off as long as he can, but eventually he gives in and kisses him. They kiss soft and slow, pleased sighs falling from their lips before they meet again. 

John pulls Dorian flush against him and tastes as much of him as he can. His lips move from his partner's lips to his jaw to his collarbone, and Dorian arches into him and wraps his arms around John's neck, his quiet moans and the sound of John's lips meeting Dorian's flesh echo in the room.

Eventually they end up eye to eye again, John breathing heavy and Dorian's lips and neck kiss-bitten.

They stare into each other's eyes for the longest time, Dorian taking in every fleck of brown and green in John's, and John memorizing every shade of blue in Dorian's.

"I love you." Dorian says softly, hand fisted tightly in John's shirt, "I love you."

John kisses him, "I love you more than I've ever loved anyone or anything in the world, D."

They share those words like secrets, quiet and huddled together until they hear Richard tell them it's time. 

~

John gets into the car with the tablet in one hand, his gun in his holster and his hand in Dorian's.

And that's how he leaves the car, even though when they pull up to the building he sees a huge crowd outside that he really wasn't expecting. Richard slows down the closer they get because the sidewalk is filled with so many people.

More than the crowd outside the therapist's office. 

God, it's _huge_.

Dorian shrinks into his side, and John squeezes his hand in reassurance, "It's okay, D."

"What the hell are they all _doing_ here?" Richard asks in annoyance.

"I have no idea." John answers, shoulders tense as he scans the crowd.

John also dimly realizes this is the first place they've gone without Vanilla since they adopted her. And it's showing. They're both extremely anxious.

Though Dorian is bordering more on terrified.

Richard parks in front of the building but no one moves to get out. Richard leans across the seat to look out the passenger window, and Dorian tenses and trembles at John's side.

They're all frozen until they see the crowd parting like the red sea and it turns out to be Maldonado aided by a full security barrier of MXs making their way through the crowd and to the car.

There are more MXs surrounding Sandra than John has ever _seen_ , and when she opens their door and gestures for them to get out, John could kiss her. Because having to walk through that crowd would have been a torture he's not sure he could ask Dorian to endure. 

Now he'll have a sheild.

"Sandra, you're a fucking genius." John says as he gets out of the car, holding out his hand for Dorian. Richard appears next to her.

"I know that." She says with a smirk.

The DRN takes John's hand and gets out, still looking like he wants to bolt. 

He just presses closer to John. 

"Hey Dorian," Sandra says with a smile, "How are you?"

Dorian blinks and looks at her like he didn't notice she was there before he fidgets and says, "Hello captain. I...I've been better."

She nods, "Understandable, but hopefully this is the beginning of the end."

Dorian nods, "I hope so."

"Don't worry," Sandra says to the android as they start cutting though the crowd and heading for the entrance, "We won't let them get to you."

Dorian manages a small, grateful smile, and John wraps an arm around his waist and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. His partner relaxes a bit, and John counts that as a success.

The crowd is loud from behind their barrier of MX-43s, and while John can't hear what they're saying, he still breathes a sigh of relief when they get inside the building.

The MX barrier breaks away and the androids stand guard at the exits and entrances, and John can see that it's as packed inside as it is outside. But not with civilians--though there are some--but with cops.

Most of whom John know.

And the crowd goes from the entrance to the council room. This building also looks like where the corporate aesthetic goes to _die_. It's so...white and gray. Clear cut with not a speck of color _anywhere_.

"When you get in there, just say what you're going to say. Dorian is no longer city property and the information you have on them about InSyndicate." Sandra advises.

"I'll have more to say than that." He tells her, "But what are all these people doing here?"

"They're your support." Valerie says, slipping to Richard's side, "All of these cops are with you guys."

"You two have done a ton of good for this city," Maldonado says, leading them through chrome double doors, "and they recognize that."

"They're here for _us_?" Dorian asks, voice quiet.

"Yep." Stahl smiles.

Sandra stops and turns to them when they come upon another set of double doors.

"This is it." She says, looking at John and Dorian, "Dorian, it's all going to be fine. We won't let _anything_ happen to you. John," She says before she gives him a considering look and a sly smile, "give 'em hell."

Then she turns, and pushes the door open, leading them in.

The room is obviously designed to be as cold as the people who sit in it day after day. It's large and the walls are a sterile, bright sort of white that makes it fucking awful to look at. The furniture--hard metal chairs and tables--is all chrome. There are large, flat computer screens situated on the wall so that everyone in the room can see them, should they need to be used. In the center there is a glass case-like barrier with microphones welded into the clear walls, which is where John assumes they're supposed to be.

Sitting higher, on another level are the councilman. 

This entire room is set up to make people feel small, John realizes. Everything from the cold color scheme to the fact that the councilman's desks are looming above you and forcing you to look up at them. It's designed to make you submit to whatever they say.

Not today. Mostly because John is not backing down no matter what they do, but also because this room is packed too.

They walk up the aisle and Sandra stops in the middle of the floor, leading them into the glass case in the center, taking one of the seats. John, Dorian, Valerie and Richard stand behind her like the soldiers they are.

The rest of the room is packed with men and women in blue, along with a few civilians and the area doesn't feel nearly as big and drafty with so many people in it and even _more_ finding their way inside.

The councilman are just how John imagined them. Old, white, and have that same look on their faces, like they're smelling something awful all the time. The one in the center looks a lot like a bulldog, and he doesn't realize he's said so out loud until Maldonado turns around with an amused, "Doesn't he?"

Richard snickers.

The room quiets (or rather, gets as quiet as it can with over 300 bodies packed into it) and the man in the middle (John really doesn't _care_ what his name is) looks down and _directly_ at Sandra.

"I see you've _conveniently_ found your detectives,  captain." He says condescendingly, and Sandra dismissively waves him off.

"I always knew where they were, councilman Tanner." She says blandly, "Whether I wanted to tell you was another matter entirely."

The board members bristle but stay silent, letting the man in the middle take charge.

He leans forward in his expensive suit and blubbers in indignation and offense.

"It is not within your right to withold information from us!" he croaks, "Not only that, but this was to be a closed hearing, and yet it seems you've invited half the city!"

"Why not make it a party?" Maldonado asks dully.

A few of the officers laugh.

"Is this a game to you?" he sneers.

"Yes." She answers immediately and completely seriously.

More laughter.

"And what was all of this for?" he hisses, "To protect a mentally ill, disabled cop and an outdated robot?"

That gets a visceral reaction from the crowd. The room is suddenly filled with insults being shouted at the councilman, and his beady eyes scan the room as the crowd angrily yells obscenities at him.

John clenches his fists, "Well this mentally ill, disabled cop is the one you should be afraid of." he barks.

The councilmen look at each other in concern. 

The man sputters angrily before he sits up straight and says, "We are _not_ entertaining this nonsense any further. I order for the termination of Detective Kennex's law enforcement career and the deactivation of DRN-0167--"

The room booms with protests, and John feels Dorian start to tremble beside him.

"No. See, that's not going to work for me." John says, eyes blazing, "You're not _touching_ Dorian."

"The _thing_ has a _name_?" he sneers.

Dorian flinches and John sees red.

The crowd starts angrily shouting again. Louder.

"Call him a thing again and I will make you eat your own eyeballs, I swear to God." John says icily, tone dripping with hate, "You won't _fucking_ _touch_ him, you won't decommission him or I will personally dismember you _myself_."

"You just threatened a councilman!" He sputters, "I am pressing charges--"

"Oh, you're not pressing any charges." John says, holding up the tablet, "Because have a feeling you won't be a councilman for much longer."

"And what the hell makes you think that?" he shouts.

"You also won't be deactivating my partner because you'll be too busy _serving a life sentence in the cubes_." John yells, "Because we've discovered something that will have you _fucked_ for life. You'll be thrown in the cubes and you will _never_ see the light of day again."

"I am _dismissing_ this meeting and you are to be _fired_ and _charged_ with--"

"I have here," John shouts, holding the tablet high above his head, the nearby microphones making his voice boom through the room, "a device full of _official_ documents signed by every one of these fuckers up _there_ ," he points to the counsilmen, "that prove that they engineered, created and funded InSyndicate in order to keep their power in this city."

The sound is deafening, and John winces at the volume of it, and Dorian jumps. John rubs his thumb across his hand in comfort.

"See for yourselves," a blonde guy says once the noise has died down a bit, pushing through the officers and arriving at John's side. He looks at the boy in shock and a silent question.

"I'm a friend of Celeste's," he whispers to him, tapping a few things on his own tablet before the screens in the room turn on and start running lines of code.

"This is an outrageous accusation!" the councilman roars as the other council members look at each other in poorly disguised fear, "What the hell are you _doing_?!"

"I'm commandeering your screens." the boy says easily and then...it's _there_.

The proof.

Broadcasted on huge screens for everyone to see.

The truth.

Contracts and plans. With their signatures.

The voices all scream at once in outrage, fury and shock, and John leans into one of the microphones.

"When technology started booming the police force was becoming obsolete, wasn't it?" he says, his voice rising about the crowd, "So you created a threat. You _created_ a terrorist group so you could continue having influence and making money. So people would be scared out of their _minds_ and need you."

John can hear someone scream _'people died and you made it happen!'._

"You gave them weapons and technology and money, and you sat back as they went wild, wreaking _havoc_ on this city. They murdered, and _raped_ and stole and you _let_ them. You _created_ them. _You_ started this. And there's your proof." John finishes, gesturing to the screens.

"You're all criminals. And I'm saying you're _fucked_. We found out." John sneers, "And now this city knows who's responsible."

The sound is thunderous, and John looks on at the terrified faces of the men that are at the root of a problem that has caused so many lives lost and so much fear that have flooded the streets. They had a hand in what happened to Dorian. They had a hand in the raid.

They did this.

And now everyone knows.

"These documents will be made public." John says coldly, "This city will know your faces, and know what you did."

The board members frantically look at each other, and some are plainly in shock and others are frozen with fear.

Good.

He can only imagine how frightening the furious crowd behind him is, and he can hardly hear himself think over the noise. John, Dorian, Sandra, Valerie and Richard are set apart from the crowd only because they're in the center structure of the room, and are encased in three 5ft glass walls. The crowd moves behind them, then rushes the elevated platform the terrified councilmen are seated upon.

The fury in the room is palpable. Realistically speaking, John isn't sure the councilmen will even make it out of this building _alive_. These are people who have lost family and friends to a gang that wouldn't exist if not for the men in front of them.

 _John_ is almost scared, and they're on _his_ side.

He pulls Dorian close, and only has to glance down and see his terrified expression before John tucks his face into his chest and holds him closer. He feels Dorian relax into him, and catches sight of Valerie trying to say something to him.

The crowd is too loud. He can't hear her. She weaves through the crowd that has broken free of the outer barriers of the room, and ends up at John's side, wincing at the noise.

Even when she's right next to him she has to shout, and he only distantly hears her say ,"The information has been released. The entire city knows now."

He smirks. Good.

Sandra puts a hand on his shoulder and leans in to shout, "I called Detective Masterson who I had going through the records while we were doing all...this." She shouts, gesturing to the room, "He found Dorian's purchase and contract records and destroyed them. They don't own him anymore. No one does." She finishes with a smile.

John closes his eyes in relief.

Finally.

That's one big problem taken care of, and he presses his cheek to Dorian's curly hair and takes a steadying breath.

He's safe. Dorian is safe. 

No one can turn him off or tell him what he has to do. 

Dorian belongs to no one.

Dorian is safe.

Safe. Safe. Safe.

He can make his _own_ choices. He can decide who or what he wants to be. 

All on his own.

And god, it's the best fucking news John has _ever_ heard. It really is.

His partner wraps his arms around his waist when he hears Sandra's words, and looks up at John with a hopeful look that makes his heart clench.

In the midst of chaos all they see is each other. 

All Dorian hears and feels is John and his heartbeat. All John is aware of is Dorian's lights and the blue of his eyes.

The room is all chaos and noise.

But then and there? Between them? It's quiet.

Until three deafening bangs go off in the building.

And suddenly the roof is caving in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew this took a lot out of me.
> 
> Anyway, I ended this chapter with the same sentence I used to end the first chapter. Because...parallels.


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay listen, in my defense, I had a really shitty, triggering dream and I feel like shit okay.
> 
> You guys are going kill me. I can feel it. 
> 
> I'm so sorry.
> 
> I'm going straight to hell.
> 
> MOLESTATION, RAPE ELEMENTS AND RAPE THREATS IN THIS CHAPTER. FUCKING BEWARE

The thing about final battles is that--when you're in them, you aren't exactly sure if they're final, or how long they'll last. After all, final doesn't mean short, it just means it's the last. The end.

Needless to say, when the building caves in in smoke and fire, John knows exactly who is the cause of it.

They're here.

And in the split second it takes for those thoughts to go through his mind, Dorian has tackled him to the ground and is shielding him from falling debris and peices of metal and glass that shatters as soon as the walls starts crumbling.

The world slows in a single moment, and Dorian is hit with wood and plaster and metal, but doesn't flinch.

He doesn't feel it.

He isn't looking at John, either.

The DRN shields him but through the dust and the asbestos rising in smoke and permeating the air, John can see that Dorian is looking to the side in intense fear and concern. His face lights up in blue, and John coughs because the air is so thick with smoke and he can hardly fucking _breathe_ \--

"Sandra, Valerie and Richard are alright." Dorian says, a tendril of relief in his voice as he looks down at John, "Their vitals are steady and they seem unharmed."

John can only cough in response. 

"Are you okay?" Dorian asks, and John can clearly hear the screams and gunfire that fill the crumbling building.

A building full of cops. Of _course_ there's gunfire. If InSyndicate has ambushed them with everything they have the officers in this building would mobilize to take them down. Along with all MXs present. No doubt even more MXs have been called in.

They're in a firefight.

John and Dorian are right at the center.

"Fine." John croaks around a mouthful of dust, "You okay, D?"

"I'm physically unharmed, if that's what you mean." 

John nods. It was a stupid question. Of course he isn't okay. John can see the shielded terror behind those blue eyes.

But the human can only cough his lungs out, struggling for a breath of air that isn't filled with the ask he's _sure_ is lining his lungs. And he quickly starts to panic because it's becoming increasingly difficult to take in _any_ air, and his lungs are seizing and his brain is slowing in muted terror. His heart crashes against his ribcage over and over again.

Shit.

He's going to fucking _suffocate_ to death and he won't be able to protect Dorian--

He starts hyperventilating before Dorian quickly grabs him and presses his lips to John's--tongue hastily pressing against his lips and teeth. John gets the hint and opens his mouth, letting Dorian in, and he has the thought that maybe his partner wanted one last kiss before he suffocates to death.

So he opens his lips to Dorian, expecting to taste his tongue one last time--

And then he feels the clear, dust-free oxygen. And something in Dorian's chest feels like...a fan? John calms and breathes through his mouth as his partner pushes oxygen from himself into John's lungs. 

Dorian's working like an oxygen mask. 

John knew Dorian didn't need to breathe, but he didn't really guess that maybe there's a reason he does despite the fact that he doesn't need to.

John breathes in and out, Dorian pressed to him in panic, trying to save him, and by the time John gently puts his hand on Dorian's neck, he no longer feels like air is difficult to come by and the air around them has cleared a bit.

Dorian lets him go. And John can feel Dorian's fear.

"Are you okay?" Dorian asks frantically, "You were suffocating--"

"I'm okay, D." John says, pressing a quick kiss to his lips, "Thank you."

Dorian nods and looks around. The room is still in deafening chaos, and the sounds of gunfire seem to have tripled while Dorian was trying to make sure he stayed concious.

"This is--" The DRN starts, eyes wide and haunted, "This is what happened last time. Remember? The precinct? This is exactly what happened last time before--"

"No one will ever hurt you again." John growls, standing before pulling Dorian from the ground and pushing the DRN behind him, "I have to get you out of here."

"Not an option." Valerie's yells from John's right, "They're at all exits. We have to fight our way out."

John turns and through the thin blanket of dust he sees Valerie and Richard, covered in dust and quickly loading their guns, eyes hard and scanning every entrance into the room.

The space is in shambles. Iron desks bent and broken at all angles. Chairs crushed in half. Nothing has been left standing. It's a war zone. And it looks like it.

Richard's arm is bleeding. Valerie has a bruise on her cheek.

Shit. 

Dorian wasn't supposed to be with him when they finally came for him. This is one stupid _fucking_ detail John overlooked because he's a _fucking_ idiot and now Dorian is in danger _again_.

Fuck.

John shields Dorian, grits his teeth and loads his gun.

"John!" Sandra calls, appearing from his left, covered in dust but looking more pissed than he has ever seen her. She tosses him another clip, before stepping past him and looking at Dorian.

She stops next to the DRN, looks him in the eyes, and offers him a gun.

John takes a breath, and Sandra only glances at John before she holds the gun in front of Dorian.

"You have to be able to defend yourself." She tells him, eyes soft--a complete contrast to the firefight around them, "Only use it if you have to. But I would feel better if you had it. Just in case."

John can feel Dorian tense and hesitate, because _fuck_ , this is just like last time. And last time ended with Dorian being brutally raped, torn apart and broken. Violated and humiliated. 

John would rather rip out his own heart than have that happen again. And it won't. 

They'll have to kill him before they get to Dorian.

And John doesn't plan on dying.

The world crawls as Dorian slowly reaches for the gun, taking it from Sandra's grip. He holds it gingerly, like it's going to burn him if he grips it too tight. 

Sandra nods at him approvingly and the world snaps back to real-time again.

Maldonado looks at John, eyes serious and commanding, "We're stuck here for the time being. All officers are taking out any gang members they can. We called in more MXs. They should be here soon. It's a mess out there, John. They brought everyone." Dorian shivers.

"So we're going to defend this room until backup comes. The officers outside have them at bay, but anyone who comes through those doors and into this room are our responsibility." She says, voice firm, "This is it. Make every bullet count."

John nods an affirmative, and steps in front of Dorian, his free hand on the trembling DRN's hip, trying to provide what comfort he can.

John is ready for this. He's been ready for InSyndicate to come for him since he woke up from his coma. Since he was paired up with Dorian and ended up putting away more than 30 of the gang's major players. Since he killed that thug and left him in the street. Since he was rescued from their capture by Dorian, Valerie and Richard.

But Dorian isn't supposed to _be_ here. John's plan was to task Valerie with staying with the DRN while John drew them out and handled them on his own. With the people he loves not involved and in a completely different setting.

Dorian had _one_ run in with them and it was the single most horrible thing to happen in his short life, and now history is repeating itself. So John is not surprised that the DRN is terrified.

John stands steadfast in front of Dorian, his back pressed to the shorter man's front, and grips his gun, ready to fire.

Valerie and Richard stand to his right, and Sandra to his left, Dorian is behind him and suddenly there's another loud and startlingly bright bang and a flash of fire in each doorway.

Bombs. They have _more_ bombs. Probably hand grenades.

 _Fuck_.

Who fucking knows how many officers that took out. And while John, Dorian, Valerie, Richard and Sandra aren't the only cops in the room, they're still in a vulnerable position. From _all_ angles. 

And strategically speaking this is such a horribly _obvious_ spot for John and Dorian to be in, seeing as anyone with two brain cells to rub together could guess that the ones the terrorists are looking for would be in the middle of the room that all the cops in the building are obviously defending and trying to keep them from ambushing.

They probably already know where they are.

Fuck.

And he's proven correct when the three entrances to the room are flooded with thugs in black. Sandra yells something in warning, and Valerie and Richard spread out in front of John and Dorian, faces stone cold with muted fury as they fire.

It's all moving so fucking fast that John can only take out so many of them before they reach them. He's dimly aware that Dorian has started firing as well, and he feels his heart clench yet again because the DRN shouldn't _be_ here. This is John's battle. Not his.

And god, these thugs are decked out in fucking _army_ gear, John realizes as he shoots one in the head before aiming at another. The cops in the room are holding their own, and John is thankful to them all because if they weren't here there's no question that they would have reached the center of the room by now.

They are all still cornered though, and the gang members keep pushing through and pushing all the cops back because there are so fucking _many_ and _where are those fucking MXs--_

"John!" Dorian yells, firing over John's shoulder as one tattooed thug gets too close to comfort, gun poised to fire at him.

The world is simultaneously too fast and too slow. The thugs shout and fire, moving in far too fast, and yet it seems like the fact that they're quickly being cornered is such a slow and horrifying progression. Soon they'll be trapped, and they're all in such a position that their backs will be to the wall and the thugs will be free to move forward and pick them off.

John shoots a criminal that is nearing Valerie, so preoccupied with the fact that he has his gun aimed at her head while she's distracted that by the time John aims and takes him out, he hasn't seen or taken stock of the rocket launcher. 

When he sees it it's too late, and the time it takes to raise his gun and take out the huge man holding it, he has already aimed and fired.

He didn't aim it at _them_ , though, and John's mind reels to a stop in confusion as the small missile hits the ceiling above John and Dorian's heads.

Time moves in slow motion as the missile lodges itself in the plaster of the ceiling before it detonates and everything is white and dusty again.

Dorian screams.

John pulls him out of the way of an extremely large piece of debris.

The chunk of ceiling lands between them and Sandra, and John knows--in a split second, exactly what they're doing. His stomach bottoms out.

They're cutting John and Dorian off from the other officers. Sealing them behind pieces of fallen ceiling so that they can't have any sort of backup. The ceiling shakes again, and more debris falls, a large chunk between them, Valerie and Richard.

Valerie yells in shock, shielding her eyes from the dust and ash.

"John!"

"Val, you and Richard okay?" He yells in a panic, hand still fisted in Dorian's sweater.

"Yeah, where are you?" she shouts, coughing lightly and firing her weapon.

"They've trapped us." He says, "They separated us from you. That was their plan."

"Shit." Sandra says, reloading, "Hang tight, backup is coming!"

John grits his teeth because for one, they don't have any choice, second, why the _hell_ are they taking so long, and three, Dorian is silently panicking next to him and in those walls of debris and broken ceiling John is still fucking kicking himself because Dorian _shouldn't_ be going through this with him.

Everything InSyndicate does is strategic. Yes, they are a bunch of savages, but they have an order and they stick to it. They know how to use formation and identify weaknesses even in the midst of gunfire to get what they want.

And what they want is them. And they'll do anything to get them.

So when he hears Richard frantically shout, "Valerie is down!" His blood runs cold and his heart nearly gives out.

"Is she alive?" Sandra yells, before John hears her grunt in pain and reload her clip.

"Yeah, she's unconscious though." Richard answers, worry in his tone.

"Take her outside!" Sandra snaps, "Get her out of here! You, MX! Lead detectives Paul and Stahl out of here! Now!"

He hears the dull tone of the MX's response and thanks his fucking stars that Valerie is in safe hands.

Now he has to worry about _them_. Sandra sounds hurt, and John can barely hear anything over the screams and gunfire. But what he does hear is the sound of heavy army boots getting closer.

He has half a mind to hope that it's more fellow officers, but John isn't fucking _stupid_ and tries reloading his gun only to find it empty. Shit.

Dorian hands him his, and John takes it quickly, aiming it in preparation to blow someone's head off.

It's all happening at once. Dorian's breath hitches in terror as the footsteps stop and a large bit of ceiling trapping them is ripped away and they're faced with a small group of tattooed men in gas masks. 

John's blood runs so cold he can barely feel his heart beating anymore.

He's never really gotten too good a look at InSyndicate gang members before. He was usually too busy trying to kill them or stop himself from being kill _by_ them. But now they're here, and in a flash of a millisecond John takes in the military riot gear, the tattoos, the dangerous glints in their eyes and the knuckle rings they sport on the hands that aren't clutching their guns. 

The one in front is the biggest, and takes off his mask to reveal a bloodthirsty expression and face tattoos of snakes that wrap around his head. John is 6 ft tall, but this man is a monster like he's never seen. 

Dorian recognizes him though, and John aims to fire in the split second it takes for Dorian to recognize and register who he's looking at. John falters when he hears the small, terrified sound that his partner makes behind him...and that's all the distraction they need.

John's automatic response is to glance back at his partner, and try to provide comfort. At this point, it's what he's hardwired to do.

 _Mistake_. Oh _god_ what a fucking mistake.

As soon as he tears his eyes from the man in front of him, John finds himself on the floor with half of his face burning like it's on fire and his gun kicked away from him. The blow is _harsh_ and _hard_ and happens so fucking _fast_ that he feels something crack before he sees nothing but sharp, stinging white flashing before his eyes. John slumps and tries to think past the dizzying nausea that blinds him, and he _hears_ Dorian, but he can't understand him. John can't understand _anything_. He can barely _breathe_.

The next crushing blow to his stomach doesn't help either. Neither does the devastating blow to his head after that.

John is on his back, looking at the scene that unfolds in front of him through glazed, unfocused eyes. There's static in his brain and all he's feeling is _painpainpain_ \--

"John!"

He hears Dorian, but it sounds like he's shouting through a tunnel.

John is kicked again.

The huge man directs his attention to the DRN who is shaking violently, eyes wide.

"Boys, look who it is." He says with a sick smile, "Our cute little cum-dumpster."

Dorian takes a shaky, horrified breath and wills himself not to cry. If he can distract them then they won't be paying attention to John. He can even stall until backup comes.

"It is!" Another man says, taking a step closer.

Dorian frantically stumbles back.

This is straight out of every nightmare Dorian has had for months. But only one other nightmare trumps this one.

John. Dead.

And if he has to live through that same nightmare all over again to save John's life, to stop a worse nightmare from becoming reality, he'll submit to these men for the rest of his life.

Dorian whimpers and flinches when the biggest one lifts his chin to look at his face. His touch is slimy and the DRN is trembling and can't stop the tears from gathering. And he's staring into those cold, silver eyes again.

Just like before.

Dorian wants to peel his skin off. Everywhere they touch him. He wants to strip it off bit by bit. He wants to crush every little piece of him they caress and fondle.

Every bit.

"Still as pretty as when we last saw you." one smirks, stepping around John's now unconscious body and closer to the DRN.

"He was a good fuck." another one says, skull tattoos on his cheek distorting and warping as he smiles disgustingly wide, "Best of my life, actually."

Dorian makes a pitifully fearful noise and the big thug holding his chin grabs his face in his large hand.

Every part of Dorian is screaming in terror. He knows he's giving himself away, the lights on his face zipping down his neck, which only serves to make them smile wider in amusement.

The sheer horror that this is happening again makes his insides run hot and his mechanics heat up in revulsion and distress. It's happening again. And it'll happen _again_ and _again_ and _again_ and _again_ \--

One licks his lips, eyeing the DRN like he's a meal that he's been denied for too long.

"Hm, I agree." The man holding his face says, lust in his eyes, "You were so very good for us last time."

 _nonononononononono_  

_getoffgetoffgetoffgetoffgetoffgetoffgetoffgetoff_

Dorian screams and flinches violently when he feels a hand wandering down to the waistband of his jeans.

" _Stop_." he croaks, tears spilling over, "Stop. _Don't touch me._ Please, stop."

"Aw, guys," the one holding him says in a mocking tone, "He wants us to _stop_."

"Adorable." the other says, grinning.

The man touches him and leaves trails of sickening, scorching _fire_.

Dorian sobs in shock, terror and disgust when he feels the man's large hand dip into his underwear and run a slimy finger down his length before prodding at his hole.

Revulsion mixes with the pure, unfiltered horror and Dorian sobs and shakes as the others laugh.

His face goes red in humiliation and sickening shame.

"He's pretty when he cries." 

He scrabbles at the man's hand holding his face, but it's like all of his strength is _gone_. He can only scream and cry as the man presses him into the wall and pushes a finger inside him. He cries out and tries to get away.

His processors slow to a crawl and he can do nothing but tremble as the man roughly fingers him open.

"My _god_ you're a masterpiece." he moans, grinding himself into him, "So fucking _cute_."

The others chuckle at the DRN's cries.

"Kill his buddy here." one says, "I like how he looks when he's all hysterical like that."

Dorian's eyes widen as the man fingers his opening, the digits leaving slimy, poisonous trails in him.

" _No_!" Dorian wails desperately, "Don't hurt him!"

The one holding him laughs with the others and moves to mouth at Dorian's  neck. He tries to wiggle away, but all that does is make the man pinning him press into him harder and finger him faster, his thick fingers making Dorian sick from the inside out.

John--

"Leave him alone!" Dorian screams, tears pouring from his eyes as he flinches while the man rubs his cock into Dorian's. God, he remembers. He _remembers_. This is the man who _tore_ him. He remembers the ripping of his flesh--

He sobs.

"He's no threat to you anymore!".

The one closest to John takes out his gun.

 _"I'll come with you!_ " He yells, gasping in desperation as the man holding him ruts against him and kisses his neck, leaving burning trails of saliva.

The rest freeze.

"You can have _me_." Dorian sobs, tears running down his face, "You can have me. I won't fight. I promise."

The thug holding him grabs his hair and pulls his head back, looking into Dorian's wet, terror-filled eyes. He flinches and whimpers, crying harder when the thug roughly adds a third finger and grinds into the DRN again.

"You can do whatever you want with me." He says, voice cracking, "Just don't hurt him. I'll do whatever you want. I--I promise."

Dorian shakes and his breath hitches.

The man looks at him before looking back at the others.

One shrugs, "Look at him." he says, nudging John with his foot, "he's not going anywhere."

The man looks at Dorian, takes in the tears and the lights and the blue eyes and then slowly drags a finger down one wet cheek.

"Okay, little dolly." he grins nastily, ramming his fingers inside Dorian once more, smiling when he cries out in horror, and kisses the DRN's unresponsive, wet lips, "Don't say I never did anything for you. You're _our_ toy now.

He whimpers as the man takes his hand out of his pants, runs a possessive hand down his body and pushes him towards the others.

"Get him to the car." he orders, "Blow the head off of anyone who gets in the way. I'm going to go get Henderson."

They grab Dorian who flinches in their grasp, and the bigger man walks away.

But they're not hurting John anymore. They won't kill him. And as Dorian is dragged away,  he turns slightly until he catches sight of one of John's hazy, hazel eyes opening a crack. 

Hazel meets blue, then Dorian is harshly turned back around and pulled away.

At least he avoided one nightmare.

For John, it's worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes I know, I'm going straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect $200.
> 
> I know. I have my room there all picked out and decorated. 
> 
> Feel free to kill me.
> 
> I was talking about this chapter with a friend and it went something like this:  
> me: this is fucked up  
> them: it's YOUR story  
> me: yeah but like.......it's really fucked up.
> 
> THIS IS STILL GOING TO HAVE A HAPPY ENDING I PROMISE.  
>  
> 
> Again. I'm sorry.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING FOR RAPE AND MOLESTATION.
> 
> *opens my ikea catalogue to start picking out my furniture for my room in the deepest pits of hell*

The chaos that the crumbling building causes--along with the smoke and ash, means that they can quickly force Dorian into the back of a large van with very little effort.

No one even looks twice at them. They're too busy fighting or trying to pull survivors from the wreckage.

No one is looking for him or noticing he's gone.

Kind of like last time.

It's a happening again. And it will never stop.

The back of the van is large and empty except for two benches on either side, and he's groped, pulled down and forced to sit on the lap of one of the men as it takes him farther and farther away from anyone who cares about him. 

Dorian really wishes he could stop crying, but that hope is dashed when the man he's being made to sit on starts grabbing at his body and kissing his neck. His tears only seem to spur them on further, and get them more and more aroused, but he can't _stop_. Every touch is agony. 

"Look at our pretty doll." he says, caressing Dorian's lower back, his hand climbing up his sweater, "Pretty little thing."

Dorian can only shake and sniffle.

John is alive.

John is alive.

John is alive.

The man grabs Dorian's face and forces him to look into his grey, lifeless eyes before he kisses him, shoving his tongue in a whimpering Dorian's mouth and licking at his tongue.

Dorian gags, and the men behind him laugh.

John is alive.

John is alive.

John is alive.

The man bites Dorian's bottom lip before he releases his mouth. He tries to bite back a whimper, and more tears, but then he feels a hand dipping into his pants yet again, and he startles, screams and cries all at once. He tries to twist away, but all that does is rub his thigh against the man's erection. A finger prods at his hole and he shivers in shame and disgust. The thug thrusts against him and slips his finger inside the DRN's body.

" _Please don't_." he pleads, voice cracking. Slate gray eyes look at him and with a dirty smirk, hastily shoves another finger inside him.

Dorian cries, "I--I'll _tear_."

They don't care about him, but he takes a gamble out of desperation that they'll take it easy so he remains as tight as possible.

No luck.

One of the thugs behind Dorian laughs before he walks over to him, and kneels in front of the DRN so he's level with tearful blue eyes.

"Don't worry dolly." He says, tone dripping with fake sweetness as he caresses Dorian's cheek with the back of his hand, "We'll treat you nice. We take care of pretty things."

Tears roll down his cheeks and he sobs while the man he's sitting on grabs at his ass with his free hand. Every touch burns.

"Hey Reol!" One of them yells, "We're _sharing_ him, remember?"

Dorian can't stop the whimper that tears from his throat as the man continues to finger him. His fingers dragging along his inner walls and stretching his rim.

"Wait till the others get an eyeful of him." one says.

"Yeah well the others can't have him." The man holding Dorian grouses, "He's ours. I already hate the fact I have to share him with _you_ dumbfucks. I don't need more dicks added to the mix."

"Plus Hendrickson saw him first, and he'll kill us if we just let the others have fun with him before he gets another taste."

Dorian lets out a pitiful little sound. It's as small and afraid as he is.

"Oh, don't cry dolly." he soothes, scissoring him roughly, "Actually, we like it when you cry. But don't be too scared. Your ours now. Our little doll."

"Oh shit," one of them says, "almost forgot." 

Something shocks Dorian in the neck and he jumps, the man's hard cock rubbing against his thigh.

His vision goes horrifyingly clear.

No scanners. No heat signatures. No gps.

He isn't receiving or sending any signals.

He's completely cut off.

"What the fuck," the man with the skull tattoo says, "you're just now doing that? What, do you _want_ us to be followed or something?"

"Shut up, man." The one with the blond buzzcut says, "It's not like we weren't a bit preoccupied." he finishes, gesturing to Dorian.

"Whatever. I'm just glad you fucking remembered."

The van hits a speed bump, and the man with the skull tattoos almost loses his hold on Dorian as the van bounces, but quickly grabs him back and forces the DRN snuggly into his lap again, digging his fingers back into his tight channel.

"I've seen DRNs." One of them says, and Dorian doesn't even bother to turn to see which one of them is talking, "But there's something special about this one."

"You hear that baby?" The man with the skull tattoo says to the crying DRN on his lap as the others laugh, "You're _special_."

"Alright dumbasses." The thug driving says when they slow to a stop, turning to the back of the vehicle, "We're here. Move your ugly asses out of my van."

"Fuck you, Tank."

The back of the van opens, and Dorian barely has any time to be thankful that the man gets his hands out of him before he's tugged out of the van and sees that he's facing the basement entrance to...a library.

It's a nail in the coffin. They'll never find him.

They would never check a place like this.

He's truly lost to everyone he knows.

Dorian sniffles and is forced to walked forward, down the steps and through the door of the basement.

The sound of the door banging closed behind him feels like his final hope, finally leaving him.

~

John swims in pain, darkness and an odd sense of panic. His head hurts, _everything_ hurts, but he feels like he should be focusing on something else. Something is...wrong, he thinks. He's not sure.

God, he feels something crack every time he _breathes_. There's a knife scraping away at his brain.

All he hears are...gunshots? Where _is_ he? What's happening?

Who is he?

And why does he feel like he's lost something? Something...important? 

John tries to move, and the space behind his eyes explode in agony.

The darkness rushes to meet him again.

~

The basement is furnished and clearly someone else's, seeing as the decor doesn't suit any of the thugs that Dorian has been taken by.

He's taken by the waist and forced to sit on a couch. The thugs mill around, checking their watches every now and again, and Dorian sniffles and looks down at his shaking hands to avoid seeing how they look at him.

He feels their eyes on him, and he bites his lip to keep from sobbing, trying to stay as quiet as he can, like if they don't hear him, they'll forget he's there.

"Shouldn't they be back by now?" The man with the skull tattoo says in annoyance.

"Yeah. Shoulda been back ten minutes ago."

Dorian refuses to look up.

"No point waiting here and doing nothing." someone says, and Dorian jumps and cries out in immediate fear when the man with the blond buzzcut grabs him and presses his back to the arm of the couch, shoving his mouth against Dorian's and climbing on top of him.

The others roll their eyes and walk away, but Reol stays and glares.

"Adams, you fucking idiot, if they need us to snap to attention and go help them or some shit we can't be delayed because your dick is out." Reol snaps, obviously irritated.

Dorian whimpers as the man shoves his tongue in his mouth and slips both hands passed the fabric of his underwear to grab his ass.

As soon as he lets Dorian's mouth go he sobs in terror and tries to curl in on himself.

"Oh no, dolly." He says, silver eyes glinting like snake scales, "Don't hide from me, baby."

"Adams!"

"Calm _down_!" The man holding Dorian down snaps, "I'm not going to fuck him right now. I'm just going have some fun. I'll be ready to go if they need us. Get off my ass."

Reol rolls his eyes and stalks away, heading to another room.

He can't help the scream that escapes him when he feels the blond press his chest to his, pinning him to the couch and smiling as Dorian cries, a fresh wave of tears spilling from his eyes.

"God I can't wait to be balls deep in your tight little hole all the time." The man growls, spreading Dorian's legs and climbing between them, "God, wanna have your lips around my cock."

The DRN tenses and tries to turn away and close his eyes only to have his face grabbed and the man hisses, "Look at me. Wanna see that pretty face of yours."

The DRN gags when he kisses him, and chokes on the thug's tongue when he ruts his hard cock up against him.

God. Dorian wants to die. He doesn't care how. He just wants to die.

Poisonous hands are all over him and he can't even manage to stop crying because everything is so painful and so dirty--

"Look at me!" The blond growls angrily, and Dorian's forced to look at the man above him again. Dorian can feel his erection, and he's huge and looking at him like he's--

"Delicious." he leers, grinding into Dorian again as he cries and shakes in revulsion and terror under him.

The room is filled with Dorian's cries, sobs and whimpers as the thug ruts into him, kisses him and runs his hand over every bit of Dorian's skin he can reach. He grips Dorian's cock, fingers his hole and comes in his pants twice.

Dorian doesn't think he'll ever stop crying. 

~

John regains consciousness for about 1/8 of a second. Just in time to hear the familiar sound of MX combat boots steadily approaching.

~

"Okay, fuck it." one says, "I'm going to look for them."

Dorian's been let go by the blond man, and now presses himself into the armrest of the couch trying to make himself as small as possible. He can't stop shaking. Or lighting up.

"You guys go." Reol says, "Adams and I will stay here in case they come back."

The others leave, and Dorian is left with the man with the skull tattoo and the one with blond hair. He can't seem to get a firm grasp on their names. He's in so much shock he can't get his thoughts in order.

The blond one sits at the small table and takes out a knife and a long tool and gets to sharpening it.

The DRN flinches in terror every time he swipes the blade across the other metal rod, the sharp sounds of metal clashing making him tremble harder.

He jumps when he's grabbed again and roughly tugged into another room.

There's a bed and now the door is locked and Dorian is taking a horrified step back and trying to control his tears.

"On your knees, doll." Reol orders, and Dorian knows he agreed not to fight. For John's sake he agreed not to fight them, and to do anything they want, but he doesn't kneel the first time he's told to. He can't.

He instead sobs and and stumbles back, looking away from those slate gray eyes.

"What did I just say?" Reol asks again, eyebrows raised, taking a step closer to the DRN.

Dorian backs up again with a whimper, and he takes a shaky breath when his back hits the wall.

"Last chance, doll."

And Dorian knows he has to move, but his entire being is _screaming_ and _crawling_ under his skin. He's replused, afraid, haunted and feels so _ugly_ and _dirty_ that he can't make himself do what he's being ordered to. He just sobs his heart out and flinches when the man sighs in anger and annoyance before grabbing him and throwing him to the ground.

He cries out when the man grips his hair and positions him right in front of the large bulge in his pants.

"If you bite me," he tells the crying android as he unzips his pants and pulls out his thick, leaking cock, "I will have John dragged in here and killed right in front of you."

Dorian blinks up at him in complete and utter terror, and then his head is being yanked towards the thug's length.

"C'mon," Reol urges, "say 'aaaah'"

Blue eyes drift to the thick, dripping appendage and he whimpers before the man gets tired of waiting and shoves his cock between Dorian's lips.

He cries out and gags around the thick spear of flesh and tries to stop the man from thrusting into his mouth, but in the end he's forced to smell and taste everything he's being fed.

"You're so pretty like this." He croons, thrusting his cock past Dorian's wet cheeks and lips, "So pretty on your knees looking up at me like that. You're _gorgeous_."

Dorian tries to close his eyes but is punished with an extra hard thrust that has the blunt head of Reol's penis stabbing the back of his throat. So he's forced to keep his eyes open and memorize the horrible image of this man feeding Dorian his cock as he's forced to take it and look up at him.

He can't help but desperately try to pull away every other thrust, and he tries not to taste what's in his mouth. He tries not to registers how salty, warm or firm it is. And how it throbs and twitches.

Dorian cries and cries and _cries_ and it finally ends after far too long.

Reol grips his hair tighter as he comes in Dorian's mouth, and the DRN's eyes widen as he's forced to take the salty, musky and warm secretion.

It dribbles from the side of his mouth, and the man grabs his face and forces him to keep it on his tongue. He knows that the disgusted and fearful sounds he's making are only turning the man on more, and Dorian really doesn't want to give him another erection, but he can't stop or control it anymore. So there he is, terrified and trembling, on his knees with a mouthful of his rapist's cum and tears pouring down his cheeks.

He'll remember the taste forever.

He has the disgusting and shameful thought that should he swallow he might short out somewhere and _finally_ be destroyed.

That bit of hope is crushed when Reol orders him to open his mouth and let his cum gush out and dribble down his chin.

He does. And it's so _humiliating_ and _disgusting_ that he can only cry harder as the man strokes his face and murmurs ,"Oh yes, I like the look of that."

The semen is warm and Dorian imagines it burning his skin like rivulets of lava.

~

The third time John gains consciousness, he's aware that he's moving.

He doesn't know where. He can barely think though the disorientation and pain.

"They have Dorian." he hears a female voice say gravely.

John slips back under.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The people have spoken! And they've said, "please let this hell end."
> 
> So it's ending!  
> *whispers* fucking finally.  
> Only about one more chapter. Then an epilogue.  
> I'm so glad you guys want the ending.  
> I'm dying here.
> 
> I cried as I wrote the end because like???? I think it's so fucking sweet? I'm sobbing excuse me.

John snaps awake with a painful intake of breath.

God, his head is _killing_ him. He's also thirsty as hell and his ribs are on _fire_. 

John's head is still fuzzy, and he still can't quite grasp the finer details of his entire _life_ for a while, laying there in that hospital bed with blood caked under his eye. He knows his name. His parents' names drift back to him. Eventually he remembers that he's a cop. He has a dog. And...

Bur when it comes back, it _all_ comes back, and John feels pain explode in sharp, bright white light behind his eyes as his brain is suddenly overwhelmed with a plethora of information like the fact that their dog sheds hair all over their house and that Dorian--

Dorian.

_DorianDorianDorianDorianDorian_

The machines go wild as John wrenches his sore body from the hospital bed, rips out the needles and wires, and stumbles out of the sterile room without a single thought. His body screams but he doesn't stop moving, dodging doctors and nurses until he's outside.

John never claimed to be good with feelings, but pain? Pain is what John _knows_. It's a feeling he can work with. It's to the point and not very complicated.

They have Dorian.

The only thing that makes his head hurt more is the fury and desperation building behind his eyes.

He takes out his phone and sends a single text.

_Bring Vanilla to Downtown Hosplital. NOW._

~

"I need MXs," John grits out, unwrapping some heavy gauze on his hand, "Send me every single one the precinct can spare."

"John?" Maldonado asks, "Where are you?"

"Hospital." He snaps, "MXs, Sandra, _now_."

"Okay." She says seriously, "Stay put."

And that's the hardest thing, staying put. The hospital is only about four blocks from the crumbled council building, and he hopes that what he's planning works.

If not he will burn this entire city down to studs. There will be nothing left.

"Detective Kennex."

He turns.

An MX looks at him with blank eyes, "You require our assistance."

"Yeah, I fucking required your assistance when I was in a damn firefightand my partner was kidnapped," he growls in anger, "So thanks for finally fucking showing up."

The android tilts his head and is about to respond, but John has rushed to the red car that has come screeching to the curb.

He catches sight of white fur in the back seat, and opens the door, waving Vanilla out before kneeling at the passenger window.

He expects to see Celeste, but he sees it's Ellie driving instead, her face serious and her eyes wide.

"Cel is still doing her computer thing." The girl says, and this is the first time since he's knows her that he hears her talk, "they're almost done. Is everything okay?"

Her voice is feather light and very soft.

"No." he says to her with a regretful smile, "But hopefully it will be soon."

She nods. Vanilla sniffs at him and barks, looking up at John suspiciously, like she knows something is wrong and John is withholding the information from her.

John ends up shoving Vanilla back into the cherry colored car before he asks, "Can you drive me back to the council building?"

Ellie nods quickly, sensing the urgency and peeling off the curb as soon as John orders the MXs to follow and throws himself into the passenger's seat.

He doesn't have time to think or brood. He has to move fast.

He quickly learns that Ellie drives a lot like Valerie, then he's out of the car and facing the familiar crumbling structure as more and more of it collapses. The place is still drenched in chaos, and John only glances at it before he takes Vanilla out of the car and leans down at eye level with the curious dog, ignoring the pain that radiates through his bones.

"Okay, Vanilla." he says, trying to keep his voice even and hoping to every diety that this works, "Dorian is missing. I know you can find him, girl."

The dog barks softly, and John holds up her leash for her to smell.

Dorian is the only one who ever really held it, so no doubt it smells like him.

The canine looks at the leash.

Vanilla isn't a search dog, but John is so fucking _grateful_ she's as smart as she is, because she sniffs the leash, looks at John, sniffs the sidewalk, barks and takes off.

"MXs, follow me." John orders, taking off after the dog.

She stops every block, sniffing the ground and leading them farther and farther from the destroyed building. John follows as the dog weaves through back streets, and he's suddenly aware that these alleys are big enough for a vehicle. They probably took Dorian in a car, or van. And John realizes that Vanilla has somehow understood this and proceeded to follow the scent of the car that took her charge as opposed to just the smell of Dorian himself.

John loves this dog. She loves Dorian as much as he does.

John's body is also letting him know that he's super injured in a _really_ big way, but he doesn't pay any attention.

Dorian is more important. Dorian is _always_ more important. No discussion.

The white ball of fluff takes a sharp left,  and then John is staring at the basement entrance to...a library? 

He quickly kneels next to the dog, "Are you sure this is it, girl?"

Vanilla looks at him and barks firmly. The MXs come to a stop behind him.

He nods at her.

"We're storming this place." He says, "Get that door open. Shoot any criminal you see, but _wound_ , don't kill. Leave that to me." 

MXs make a formation in front of him, and Vanilla stands at his side, teeth bared and growling. John takes a steadying breath.

The door is wrenched open and torn from its hinges.

They move in, and John catches sight of a blond man in black army tact gear that is quickly shot in the knees and subdued by MXs, and takes note, following the rest rest to check the other rooms. Most are empty.

One isn't.

An MX in front of him roughly kicks open a door--gun aimed and ready to fire--and John's world narrows in on Dorian, on his knees with the tell-tale signs of semen on his face and neck.

The world slows with the sound of John's breathing, and he barely registers the agony filled scream of the thug the MXs take down because the next thing John knows, he's on him and bloodying his fists on the thug's face. John also realizes--very distantly--that the feral, monstrous roars are coming from _him_ , and he doesn't fully register what his hands are doing as he takes the man's eye out and ends up caving his face in with his bare hands. 

This bottom feeding lowlife touched Dorian. This piece of feces thought that had the right to take Dorian's soul in hand and try to dirty it. He thought he had the right to use his mouth and his body how he pleased, and John can barely see in his blind rage. 

Part of his skull caves and dips into his brain, the sharp shards of skull puncturing the muscle. He doesn't stop.

He can't. He's doesn't _want_ to.

Sure, John is a monster, but he's an extremely _specific_ kind. The kind that will rip your heart out of your chest with his bare hands when you hurt the person they value above the world.

Dorian.

He leaves the criminal barely alive, and only because he wants him to suffer. To feel the full extent of physical pain before he's put down like the shit-eating beast he is. He likes the sound of his pained, labored breathing.

So he stands on steady legs, and wipes his bloody hands on his jeans before turning to Dorian.

Vanilla gets to the DRN before he does, and Dorian blinks at the ball of fluff pushing at him like he can't quite believe that she's here. That she's _real_. That _any_ of this is real.

John moves, and kneels in front of his partner, bile rising in his throat when he sees his wet, come stained face and sweater.

It happened again. 

He _promised_ it wouldn't. He _swore_ it wouldn't. But it happened again. 

He couldn't stop it.

John was too _weak_ and too fucking _stupid_ to focus on _protecting_ Dorian.

And now what's left of his heart crumbles as he looks at his partner who's looking at Vanilla with wide, unfocused eyes, his face lighting up in blue.

 _Shock_.

He looks wrecked. Dorian's face and eyes are red, and it's obvious he's just been forced to perform oral sex. John doesn't fucking _care_ , he still wants to fucking grab Dorian and hug him so tight and kiss him so deeply that all he remembers is him. That all he remembers is kissing in the kitchen and playing tug of war with Vanilla on the floor of the living room.

"D?" He croaks, reaching out to slowly lay his hand on Dorian's.

The DRN lets him, and as soon as he feels the warmth of John's hand holding his, his eyes snap up and blue meets warm hazel.

"John?"

John shuffles closer, "Yeah. Yeah, D. It's me."

Dorian looks at him, his eyes searching his face. His expression softens, he manages a soft smile and his eyes brighten.

"John!" He breathes, and the human makes a desperate, lovesick sound and throws himself at his partner. He wraps his arms around the DRN, and squeezes him tight, breathing heavy and trying to fight back tears.

"You _found_ me." Dorian sighs, leaning into his partner, "You came for me."

John let's out a watery laugh, "I'll _always_ come for you, D. Always. Nothing could stop me."

"I know." The DRN tells him, voice soft and reverant as he wraps shaking arms around John.

"Oh," Dorian says in alarm, pulling back, "My sweater and my face..."

"Dorian, I don't give a _fuck_ what the hell you're covered in." John says firmly, "I'll always want to hold you. C'mere. I just--I need to hold you. I was so fucking scared."

John pulls him back, and Dorian tucks his face into his partner's neck and hides there. Vanilla nudges at them both, wanting to be included. Eventually they open up their small, scared, hurt and love-filled circle to let her in.

Dorian buries a hand in Vanilla's fur, and leans into John, just letting the human overwhelm his senses. He focuses on John's eyes, the smell of John's aftershave and the feeling of his arms around him.

_johnjohnjohnjohnjohnjohn_

John. John _loves_ him. John will always come for him. John has warm, autumn colored eyes and hands that don't hurt. John is eternally self-sacrificing and stubborn. John hums as he makes toast in the morning. John kisses him first thing when he wakes up. John grumbles about pet hair all over the house but then smiles to himself when Vanilla curls up in his lap, all complaints forgotten. John jumps whenever the oven so much as beeps. John _panics_. John likes it when Dorian puts his head on his chest when they go to sleep at night. John likes to read physical books instead of ebooks simply because they _feel_ better. John enjoys canned spray cheese just a bit _too_ much. John makes his coffee with too much sugar _every_ day without fail, but grimaces and drinks it anyway.

John holds him and loves him with all his heart.

John wraps his arms around Dorian and doesn't care about what's on his face or clothes. He loves him and takes him in his arms without a thought.

Dorian curls into his human and takes a breath.

It's _not_ hopeless. Nothing is.

Horrible things happen to people all the time. The final nail in the coffin is when someone doesn't have a person who loves them enough to do all they can can bring them back, to rescue them time after time. Someone who would bite the bullet and take broken ribs, a fractured wrist and a concussion, escape from a hospital and say 'well try and stop me' and go through hell and back to bring them home. Who storms a basement while their body is in pieces simply because they love them and refuse to let them go. Refuses to take no for an answer.

To make sure they're safe.

To hug them tight and not flinch, even when they're filthy and covered in secretion. Who simply doesn't _care_. 

Someone who will stare down a terrorist organization and say 'you hurt him so now I destroy you' and will not run or back down.

John pulls him in close, his heart beating quickly in relief as he kisses his partner's cheek and exhales a shaky breath.

Dorian soaks up John's love and warmth, and is happy to be alive. To have him. To have Vanilla. To have this life that they built together. And yeah it's new and shaky, and yeah it was born out of tragedy after tragedy, and he treasures this life he has.

He never wants to let it go.

John kisses his face over and over again, and the DRN feels like he'll be just fine.

~

"Oh." John says after a moment, pulling away from his partner just enough to take off his jacket and order the MXs to take the bleeding man on the carpet into the other room.

Dorian blinks at him, and John lifts Dorian's sweater over his head, and uses the ruined garment to wipe his mouth. There's no disgust in John's eyes, in fact it's just the opposite. The human looks at him like he's gold, and handles him like he's even _more_ precious than that.

Then he wraps the DRN in his coat and zips it up, taking both of his hands in his own. John's black button up is dusty, and they both look a mess, Dorian is sure.

"I'm so sorry this happened again." John says after a moment of looking down at their intertwined fingers. His voice cracks, "Shit--Dorian I'm _so fucking sorry_."

Dorian blinks at him and furrows his brow, "It's not your fault."

"I fucking _promised_ \--"

"You can't control everything, John." Dorian tells him with a sad smile, cupping the human's jaw, "That's why you panic. Because you try to fix everything and you blame yourself for things that had nothing to do with you."

John takes a shaky breath, "I just--you know I love you, right? And that nothing anyone could ever do could change that? Ever?"

Dorian smiles softly and nods, "I know."

Vanilla barks, and Dorian laughs lightly, "I know you love me too, girl."

"We should get out of here. I want to get you home." John says, running a hand down Dorian's cheek, smiling when the the DRN closes his eyes and presses his face into his palm.

"Yeah, I'd like that." Dorian says softly, and John can't help but huff a tearfully happy laugh and pull Dorian into him again before he stands and offers a hand to his partner, helping him up while Vanilla happily wags her tail and keeps so close to them they have trouble not tripping on her on their way out the door.

And then they're faced with a dozen MXs looking at them blankly, and two cursing, bleeding thugs staining the carpet.

Dorian pulls away from John and the human is ready to rush after him and offer comfort, but then Dorian pulls a gun from an MX's holster and looks at the writhing figures on the floor.

"MXs, out." John orders, and they all turn and leave. Single file.

Dorian stands over them, gun in hand, looking at them with a stony expression.

The one John almost beat to death is struggling for breath and looks like he's in pure agony. Like every breath is the most pain he's ever been in.

John also can't help crushing the shattered kneecap of the blond thug under his boot. He wheezes, the pain so potent that it chokes him. He can't breathe.

Good.

Dorian looks at them, and what John sees is not what he was expecting.

No fear.

No terror.

No horror.

Pity.

"I feel sorry for you." Dorian tells them, brow furrowing as he looks down at them, both in extreme, prolonged pain and barely hanging onto life, "Both of you. And your friends."

John steps closer to his partner in a silent show of solidarity.

"How empty do you have to be to do something like that to someone?" He asks, tilting his head, "You're more broken that I can ever be." He grips the gun tighter, "And you'll die having left the worst possible mark on this world. Not on me, because I'll be fine. But...You'll only be remembered as _monsters_. Garbage. No one will miss you. No one will come to your funeral or shed a tear for you. And I find that _really_ sad. "

"You'll never hurt anyone ever again." Dorian says.

He steps closer to them as they gasp and plead for their lives, and he fires.

All noise flees the room.

Two of Dorian's attackers lay on the floor, dead. Having spent their last moments on earth in agony.

Vanilla looks at the dead humans and Dorian slips his hand into John's.

~

The scene outside is a slight surprise.

Four more gang members on their knees, MXs forming a perimeter as per protocol, and Richard and Valerie turning when they hear the sound of the basement door opening.

The thugs look just as bad as the one John nearly beat to death.

He catches sight of Richard's bloody knuckles. He sends the man--his _friend_ \--a genuine smile. Great minds think alike.

Valerie's arm is in a sling, but that hardly stops her from yelling Dorian's name and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Hi Val." He says, smiling softly until he remembers, "I'm not exactly the cleanest, right now--"

"Shut up." She says, squeezing him tighter, her words muffled by John's coat he's wearing, "Shut up. You're _perfect_ and you're _safe_ so just let me hug you, okay?"

He realizes she's _crying_.

Valerie _never_ cries.

Through everything he's never seen her so much as tear up. Chromes are generally a bit more emotionally unshakeable than the average human, but here she is, sniffling into his shoulder, one skinny arm squeezing the air out of him.

Dorian blinks away tears and let out a watery laugh, hugging her back just as tight.

"God," She sniffles, "Are you okay? We thought we'd never find you and I just--I'm just really glad I get to hug you again."

Dorian sniffles and hugs her tight, "I'm okay, Val. I'm really, really glad to see you too."

Valerie steps back the slightest bit, eyes and cheeks red and she bites her lip and nods, stifling a sniffle as she touches Dorian's cheek.

The DRN takes her hand and holds it in his, giving it a comforting squeeze.

"Dorian," Richard says, eyes wide when he walks up to the DRN and puts a hand on his shoulder, "you okay?" He asks softly, pulling him into a hug.

"Shit. We thought we lost you." Richard says, patting him on the back and sighing in relief, "I nearly had a stroke."

Dorian huffs a quiet laugh, wrapping his arms around Richard and hugging him back.

"I'm okay. Though I'm kind of covered in gross stuff right now--" Dorian starts to warn him. 

"Don't fucking care." Richard grumbles, "Really dont, man."

Valerie hugs John with a happy laugh (and winces in apology when she jostled his ribs) and Richard punches him lightly in the shoulder and makes a surprised sound when John rolls his eyes and hugs him too.

"So," Val says, looking at Dorian and nodding at the group of barely-alive thugs that are kneeling on the ground and few feet away, "what do you want us to do with them?"

"I _may_ have lost my cool." Richard says, gingerly testing the movement of his busted knuckles.

"He did." Valerie adds.

"Well you stabbed one in the dick." Richard shoots back.

"Yes I did." She says proudly.

"I've spent enough of my time on them." Dorian says, "And I also used up all of my tolerance and ability for ceremony and last speeches with the two in the basement, so..."

Dorian walks over to them, and there's no falter in his step. No fear.

He feels the protective air of his family behind him, and he stops in front of the man with the snake tattoos wrapped around his bloody, gashed head, and lifts his chin with a finger, forcing the man to look up to his blue eyes as he places the barrel of the gun under his chin and pulls the trigger.

They forced him to look into their eyes when they hurt him, when they tore him apart from the inside out, and now they're forced to look into pools of blue as they gasp their final, excruciatingly painful breaths before they're wiped from this world.

No one will remember them fondly, if anyone remembers them at all.

A dreadful, ugly little life. Snuffed out.

Dorian stands in front of their bodies, looking down at the corpses of the men he feared for so long.

They'll never hurt anyone else, ever again.

And that--as he feels Valerie wrap her arm around him, as Richard appears at his side with a comforting hand on his arm while John presses a kiss to his cheek--is what gives him peace.

The gun is taken from him, and he's wrapped up in the warmth of his strong, broken little family.

Valerie, a chrome who never thought she'd be able to get close to anyone. Richard, a hurt man who covered up how caring he was with a prickly attitude.

John, a disabled cop with PTSD who has been trying to open up to people's affection since he woke up.

And Dorian, a survivor. Someone who's loved and cherished by more people than he ever thought possible. 

And as Valerie nudges him with a smile and John takes his hand while Richard happily holds Vanilla's leash, he looks up at the sky--taking in the sun and the clouds bright and shining like they're just for him--hearing his family laugh next to him as Vanilla barks in excitement, and is blindingly _happy_.

Love is the most _powerful_ thing on earth.

Violence and hate varies, but love is _constant_. Unchanging. Unconditional.

Things _hurt_. Of _course_ they do. But what heals? What takes broken, ruined hearts and puts them back together again? What turns cynics into sweethearts and outcasts into family?

What is strong enough to do something like that? To move mountains? To make him able to smile and appreciate the life and the people he's been given?

"I love you." John whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

And if Dorian is _anything_ , it's _cherished_.

_Revered._

_Protected._

_...Loved_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm like lowkey happy you guys wanted the happy ending sooner rather than later (except for that one person on tumblr who wanted like, 10 more chapters to which I say "fuck no"). This story was dragging my ass through the goddamn mud.
> 
> Jesus.
> 
> ALSO ITS GONNA GET CUTER YOU GUYS I HAVE SO MUCH FLUFF TO SHOVE INTO THESE LAST TWO CHAPTERS AHHHHH IT'S GONNA BE SO FUCKING HAPPY AND SWEET OK PREPARE YOURSELVES.


	54. Chapter 54

The next few days are blissfully quiet.

John never thought he would enjoy inactivity so much, but other than Dorian's therapy appointment the next day, nothing happens.

It's _nice_. Just being able to live without the threat of something horrible happening hanging over their heads. That's not to say there aren't any effects to what's _already_ happened--John is sleeping on the couch again, and Dorian can't quite work himself back up to kissing him just yet--because what has just happened to the DRN has to be taken into account. It's going to affect him. He goes back to shying away from anything even remotely sexual. The trauma is still there, he still jumps at sounds and touches and can't quite stand to have anyone behind him, but while Dorian has been set just a few paces back, there's something different about it this time.

Dorian is bright. His eyes still sparkle and he still laughs at John's horrible jokes or when he almost trips over Vanilla when he exits the kitchen. He goes to therapy and leaves with a red, tear stained face and a calm smile. 

So many things are different this time.

Valerie, Rudy and Richard show up the very next day, and they end up watching old movies--Valerie and Dorian rolling their eyes while John, Rudy and Richard argue about who played which character better (eventually they ditch the arguing trio and end up side by side watching cat videos at the holo-computer), but the familial vibe and the fact that this time, Dorian knows he has people who love him makes him braver. Positive. He _knows_ he'll he okay this time. Even if he has to work a bit to get back to where be once was.

The day after that, Celeste and Ellie show up at their door to tell them that the Internet is clear of any and all information regarding Dorian and the warehouse, and that no one will be able to even post anything new about it. Celeste walks around and makes fun of John's taste in decor, and Ellie plops on the couch with Vanilla and Dorian. The curly haired girl eventually picks up John's guitar and starts playing. Surprising no one, she's amazing at it.

Celeste beats John at video games, then Ellie beats Celeste and promptly gets tackled and attacked with kisses because the redhead is apparently a sore loser.

Dorian gives it a try, and on his first turn beats John, who chooses to exact his revenge on the DRN in the same way the redhead took hers out on her girlfriend.

On the third day, John opens the front door to a smiling Sandra. She's in casual clothes, and John assumes that being in a bombing and a shoot-out has earned her a day off. Good.

Her hair is in a messy bun, she's in loose jeans and a black leather jacket. She's also holding a thick envelope.

"I have news." She says, striding into the house, "Where's Dorian?"

"John? Who's at the door?" Dorian's voice asks floating up from further in the house.

"Me." She calls, "Got a surprise for you."

Vanilla barks and rounds the corner before Dorian does, like she wants to inspect the new human before the DRN interacts with her. She deems Maldonado safe just in time for Dorian to walk up to them.

"Hey," Sandra says, "how are you?"

He smiles, "I'm okay. Recovering."

The captain beams, "Good. Glad to hear that. You're one of my best officers, you know. You've done a lot of good."

The DRN is at a loss for words, but his eyes soften and he gives her a touched little smile that makes John want to kiss him.

"So," She smiles, looking from John to Dorian, "this is for you."

She hands Dorian the envelope. He looks at her in question before he opens it and takes out several holo-papers. They're documents.

The DRN picks through them, confused until realization dawns on him.

Dorian's eyes widen and he looks at the captain in shock, "These are..." 

"Citizenship documents." She finishes, smiling knowingly, "For you."

John slips to Dorian's side and looks on as the stunned DRN flips through them.

Birth certificate. Social Security number. ID. Driver's license. Federal documents that tell the government that he's a part of the nation as well. That he's _present_. That he has a _place._

These papers means that even in the eyes of the law, he _exists_.

"Holy _shit_ , Sandra." John breathes, a smile spreading across his face.

"Pulled some strings. Called in a few favors. Threatened some people..." She shrugs.

John manages a shocked laugh. Dorian is silent.

He's looking down at the papers, blinking in disbelief. Dorian looks up at Sandra and opens his mouth, but words fail him.

"Thank you." He says, after a moment, "I don't even know what to say--I..."

"Your expression is thanks enough." She chides, smirking. 

Dorian blinks away a few tears and gives her a smile.

"That's what I like to see." She laughs, "Now you get to do taxes. Just like the rest of us."

Dorian hugs her.

She hugs him back just as tight.

~

"So, any plans for you two now?" Sandra asks, standing in the kitchen with John sipping coffee. Dorian is in the bedroom on the phone laughing with Valerie, talking about God knows what.

The sight makes John smile.

"Not really sure." He says honestly. They haven't really talked about it. For now they're just soaking up the warmth of a catastrophe-free life. Enjoying being home and safe. Enjoying _building_ a home.

"We haven't really talked about it." John adds, taking a sip.

Maldonado raises her eyebrows over her cup, "May I make a suggestion?"

"Sure."

"Take Dorian away from here, for a while." She says, "Get him away from the city. Take him somewhere beautiful and calm. It'll be good for him. For you both, actually."

John smirks, "Trying to get rid of us?"

"No, never that." Sandra smiles, "Just...so much has happened here. And I think a change of scenery could really help. Take him to a place that has no memories. Then make more. But in a different place. You two always have a place in my precinct, and your jobs will always be waiting for you, should you decide to come back. There's always a place for you in this city, but...make new memories. Somewhere new. At least for a while."

John looks at her. His captain. His _friend_.

She's never steered him wrong before.

~

"Dorian?"

"Hm?"

They're on the couch, Dorian curled into his side and Vanilla on their legs, snoozing contentedly.

"Would you...like to get away from the city for a while?" John asks, looking down at him.

"And go where?" Dorian asks after a moment, looking up at John.

"Anywhere." He says, "You pick."

Dorian sits up and turns to look at him.

"You're asking me to pick any place in the world and we'll just...move there?" He asks in disbelief.

John nods, "If you want to, yeah."

"Won't you miss this place?" The DRN asks, concerned.

"I don't think so." John tells him, taking his hand, "I think some time away could be good for us. Even if it's for a while."

Dorian threads their fingers together, looking at their hands thoughtfully.

He's quiet for a while, but then he looks at his human, all hazel eyes, stubble and messy hair, and gives him a soft smile.

"Yeah." He says quietly, "I'd like that."

John squeezes his hand, and Dorian kisses him.

No fear.

Only John.

Love.

~

The five months before Dorian decides are full of therapy, movie nights with Valerie and Richard, video games with Celeste and Ellie, reading the manuals Rudy has given him, and little steps to recovery.

'Little' meaning that Dorian can comfortably sleep in the same bed with John again. It feels so good, to take control of himself. He _wants_ to share a bed with John, so he _does,_ when he's ready _._ The absence of apprehension and fear is wonderful. He missed hearing John's heartbeat and having the human's arms around him. He missed the way John nuzzles into him in his sleep. He missed laying his head on his chest and John kissing his forehead when he wakes up.

He missed seeing John as soon as he opened his eyes to greet the day.

It was an ache that he felt for months before he felt brave enough to handle it.

"I don't know whether it's like this for everyone," Dorian tells him one morning, "but it's so easy for me to differentiate between you and...them, when I panic. You're the polar opposite. Your eyes are warm and you smell like home and...it calms me. I think that's why I can sleep in the same bed with you so soon. Even in the middle of a flashback...I couldn't get you mixed up with them even if I tried. I just...you _always_ mean _safety_ , even when my mind is dragging me back to that dark place where it feels like everything is out to hurt me. Never you though."

John gets that wide-eyed, soft look on his face.

Dorian kisses him.

~

He picks Savanna, Georgia.

Dorian isn't too keen on leaving the country right now, and Savanna is one of the few places in America that's still green. 

The pictures he finds are absolutely  _beautiful_. Arched tunnels made of vines and greenery, small houses with gardens, flowers and vegetation everywhere.

 _Life_ everywhere.

One of the few places where the nature isn't regulated to a few botany zones. It's allowed to grow free. As it should. 

Nature is allowed to take over.

It's quiet, and small. The houses are covered in vines and plantlife. Apparently you can't walk three feet without finding a pond with holographic koi.

It's so _different_ from the city. So still and peaceful.

So _green_.

It's _perfect_.

John looks at Dorian's bright eyes as he talks about how beautiful it is.

"It sounds great, D." John says softly, "So it looks like that's where we're headed."

The DRN beams.

~

Telling friends you're leaving is never easy.

However, John and Dorian have a very particular set of friends.

"Make sure it has an extra room because I'm visiting." Valerie says, "With a sizeable closet because I never pack light."

"And a big garage." Richard adds, eyes glued to his phone, "I _hate_ parking my car on the street."

"It should have a hot tub." Celeste insists, folding her arms.

 _~Lots of flowers!~_ Ellie signs.

Dorian tries to stifle a smile, and John rolls his eyes in exasperation. He'd been expecting some sadness and maybe some teary eyes. Not everyone putting in requests like they're moving in.

They're all strewn around their living room--Richard on the floor with his back against the couch, Valerie laying down and taking up the _entire_ couch, Celeste sitting cross legged on the floor with Ellie's head in her lap as she plays with her girlfriend's curls.

John sits with his back to the armchair with Dorian sitting between his legs. The DRN's back to his chest.

Dorian shakes his head at their friends in amused disbelief and leans his head back on John's shoulder with a sigh. 

Vanilla plops down on Richard. Ellie reaches up and tangles her hands in Celeste's red locks. Richard leans on Valerie's leg.

John kisses Dorian's temple.

There's a comforting warmth between them all that will never go away.

~

"I want to go see Rudy tomorrow." Dorian says one night, nestling closer to John as the human puts his arm around him. Vanilla snoozes on their legs, and Dorian's charger hums, lulling John into that space between sleep and wakefulness.

"Sure." He slurs, "Why?"

"I want him to activate that code. I...I finished reading the manuals." Dorian says softly, looking up at John in the darkness.

That wakes him up a bit. He looks at Dorian's eyes, still so bright in the darkness.

"Okay." He murmurs, "You sure, D?"

He feels Dorian nod, "Yeah. I...want to be able to do everything I never thought I could. Age, eat if I want to, sleep like you do...and," he shifts in slight embarrassment,  "...be able to carry and have your children, if you want."

John's blood runs hot for half a second because _shit_ \--Dorian will be able to get pregnant _and have his kids_ \--before he presses the DRN into the mattress and looks down at him, kissing him deeply and cupping his cheek.

"That sounds amazing, D. It sounds amazing and I love you."

And if his voice sounds a bit huskier and if his temperature has risen a bit, Dorian just kisses him and doesn't mention it.

~

The process is simpler than he thought. 

The next afternoon sees them at Rudy's lab, John protectively hovering around the DRN who is sitting on the tech's table with his legs dangling over the side and Rudy zipping around like the nervous whirlwind he is.

Dorian is hooked up to several wires and smiles softly at Vanilla who is steadfastly trying to bite at a thread that dangles off of Rudy's desk.

She's not even close.

Though he has the thought that the dog is probably doing that just to entertain him.

The tech stops at the computer that's displaying code that John can't even _begin_ to understand, and types something before the system runs--code moving up the screen as Rudy looks on and makes a pleased noise. The computer stops, and Rudy gives Dorian a soft smile.

"You're all set. Here, let me take these off you..." he says, disconnecting the wires. 

"That's it?" John asks, subconsciously moving closer to the DRN.

"Oh, no." Rudy tells him, tossing the wires aside, "There's a few more steps. Now," he hands John a clear sheet with a series of numbers and letters printed on it, "place the first three fingers on your left hand at the back of his neck. Then read this aloud."

"Wait, _I'm_ doing it?"

"Yes, John." The tech says, looking confused like John should know this.

"What if I fuck it up?" He asks, not bothering to disguise his worry.

"You won't." Dorian smiles with all the trust in the world.

"It'll work better if it's done by someone he's emotionally bonded with." Rudy adds.

John looks between the two of them with worried eyes, then hesitantly nods.

He bends and is eye level with Dorian who gives him an easy smile, and he puts his fingers behind the DRN's neck.

The lights run down Dorian's face as it goes blank. John tries not to panic.

He looks at the sheet, and repeats what he sees.

"F-6-h-w-9-d-h-g-6-5-5-8-l-k-j-h-n." John reads, voice shaking slightly.

Dorian's eyes go black.

John startles, but doesn't move his fingers from the DRN's neck, "Rudy--?!"

"That's supposed to happen." The tech assures him, eyes wide at John's panic, "It's fine, John. The rest is up to him. You can let him go now. He'll be back online soon."

"Did I do it right?" He asks, glancing at him.

"Yes. It's _fine_ , John." 

He bites his lip and nods, still obviously worried out of his mind. Rudy guesses there isn't much he can say to comfort him until he sees it for himself, so he stays silent. 

John fidgets and looks at Dorian's face, eyes still black and temple still lighting up in whizzing color and looks down at the sheet in his hand.

"Rudy."

"Hm?" He answers, turning from his computer to look at him.

"These last three letters...they're j-h-n. Is that intentional or--?"

Rudy leans over and looks at the clear sheet again, raising his eyebrows, "Oh. So it is. Complete coincidence, actually. This is just a randomized set of numbers and letters in order to upgrade him."

John nods, brow furrowing.

Dorian snaps back to life. Black eyes blink back to blue, and the DRN takes a deep breath, looking directly at John.

"Dorian, hey." He says quickly, taking the DRN's hand, "You okay? How do you feel?"

Dorian blinks and looks around in confusion.

"Is this how _you_ see all the time?" He asks, slowly, "It's weird not having scanners or grids behind your eyelids."

"Ah, you're seeing organically." Rudy chips in, "Your sight has changed. No more heat signature readings in the bottom right hand corner of your vision, I take it?"

"No." Dorian muses, "It's gone."

"You can always put it right back if you think you'll need it, but that's up to you, of course."

"And...am I actually breathing?" He asks in awe, "My energy levels are holding steady...like...I won't need to charge anymore."

"You will sometimes." The tech tells him, "But now you can harness solar energy and regulate your oxygen intake to your charging percentage."

John blinks, "Wow."

The DRN makes a face, "My tongue feels different."

"Well you can eat now, so..." Rudy trails off, giving him a knowing look, "What else do you feel?"

"I...my inner mechanics are shifting, I think."

"Yes. That's to be expected. You were created for all outcomes, so naturally you're being given a reproductive system and nanobots are repairing and overseeing any minor damage. It'll feel odd," he says, "but it's normal."

Dorian nods, blue lights running down his temple, "I don't feel too extremely different, but know I am. It's odd."

John smiles at him, "I can tell you that that's normal too."

Dorian grins at him.

~

"Is this the box with your shirts or mine?" John grumbles, opening one of the moving crates that now decorate the house.

The place is in complete disarray. Furniture has been moved and taken out. Dishes have been packed up along with appliances. The couch is gone. The bedroom now only contains the bed and a few crates filled with sheets and pillows.

Dorian's charger is sharing a box with the power station for John's leg. 

"Neither." Dorian answered from the bathroom where he's packing toiletries, "That one has Vanilla's toys in it."

"This entire box is full of dog toys?!"

"Yep. Richard spoils her and let's be honest, so do we." The DRN answers, shrugging and packing John's hair gel, "She's like our child."

"Yeah well, our kids aren't going to be spoiled to the point of being divas like this fluffball, here." John grumbles, gesturing to an indignant looking Vanilla while Dorian laughs lightly. 

He's not even sure if John notices what he's said, or if he has just thought about it to the point that he assumed that's what Dorian knew what he wanted. 

And John'd said _kids_.

Plural.

More than one.

Dorian looks down and into the box he's packing so John doesn't see his flushed face or his smile.

~

The house is almost bare.

Save for the bed along with Vanilla's chew toy and service vest, most things are packed up.

It's almost sad, seeing the place so empty. Bare walls that once held posters and the hardwood floors completely exposed. Dorian's steps echo in the empty space. Vanilla makes light clacking noises when she walks that seem all the louder because of the silence.

John is tight-lipped about the new house and wants to keep it a surprise for him when they get there. All Dorian has been able to glean from him is that it's gorgeous. Honestly, that's all he needs to know for now. 

There are three more crates by the door, and one more in the bedroom and kitchen, but everything else is in the moving van parked in the driveway. Everything John has collected and arranged to make this space his own over the course of _years_ has been packed up in two weeks.

"Everybody should be here to see us off in about an hour." John says, pulling his henley over his head as he walks out of the bare bedroom and over to Dorian.

"Okay." He answers, looking up at the ceiling and at the blank space.

"You okay?" John asks, wrapping an arm around his waist and stepping closer. 

Dorian takes a breath and leans his head on John's shoulder, "Yeah."

Vanilla wiggles between them, demanding to be included. John rolls his eyes before giving her an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

"Little brat." He mumbles, and Dorian watches the human reluctantly dole out little acts of attention towards the canine.

Standing in a now empty house, with his partner (in every sense of the word) grumbling and their dog happily wagging her tail...this is the happiest he's ever been.

~

They hear Valerie's car pull up before they hear her voice calling to them from outside.

They've spent the last two hours taking advantage of the wide, open space that used to be their home, and are in the middle of a rather intense game of fetch with Vanilla, Dorian bursting into laughter as the dog tackles John to the ground in her excitement, tail wagging. 

"Where the hell are you two?" Valerie asks, stepping out of the car and looking around. The moving van sits in the driveway, fully packed. All the leftover crates in the house has been transferred into the vehicle and they're really ready to go.

To leave.

John wrinkles his nose because Vanilla is panting in his face, and pushes the dog away before he stands and brushes off his jeans. Dorian tries to stifle a laugh at the sight of the put out look on John's face, and makes his way to the door.

"Over here." He says, walking up to Valerie and giving her a tight hug. The woman clutches the DRN tightly with a small smile.

"Ready to go?" She asks once they've separated. 

"Yeah." John says, appearing at Dorian's side with Vanilla. Richard pulls up, puts his car in park and gets out. 

Rudy exits the passenger's seat.

Sandra pulls up next, getting out of her car with an easy smile, and a red sports car rounds the corner before stopping with a screech. Ellie is out of the car first, then is followed by the redhead.

This is it. 

They're all here.

Valerie smiles as the group slowly gathers and their friends--their _family_ \--walk up to them to say goodbye.

The goodbye could just be for now. Or it could be forever. They might never come back. They might.

The future from here on out is an open road. And really, who knows where it'll lead?

That's the fun part.

"I'm gonna miss you guys." Valerie says softly, blinking back tears.

John hugs her, "We're gonna miss you too, Val."

She turns to Dorian, "I've always wanted a little brother," She smiles, a tear making its way down her cheek, "and now I've finally got one and I have to say goodbye. Take care of yourself, okay? You better call me all the time. I mean it." 

Dorian sobs happily and hugs her again. She wraps her arms around him and they don't let go of each other for a while.

When they do, their faces are wet and they're laughing at the pathetic, weepy, picture they make.

"Now who am I going to argue with all the time?" Richard smirks, looking at John.

He laughs, "I'm sure you'll find somebody."

"Take care of this old man." Celeste tells Dorian, giving him a hug, "Don't let him break any of those brittle bones of his."

The DRN tries to hide a smile, and Ellie hugs him next before looking at them both.

"Goodbye." She says softly, "We'll miss you. Call often, okay?"

Dorian looks at the girl fondly at the sound of her small voice. She speaks so rarely that he hopes to remember the sound. "We definitely will. We'll miss you too."

"Kid." John says, turning to the redhead, "You're like the little sister I never wanted."

She tilts her head and smiles, "Awww." Before surprising him with a hug.

"Dorian." Richard says, turning to the DRN, giving him a considering look, "I knew you'd make it. And I knew you'd be okay. So now I'm just gonna tell you that you're like family to me, to take care of yourself, and also, I totally told you so."

The DRN lets out a watery laugh and hugs him, "Thanks for being my friend and ally when I needed it. You're my family too. Don't forget that."

"John...take care of him, okay?" Rudy says quietly, before embracing him quickly, "And take care of yourself. If there's ever any problems, I'm a call away."

"I will." John says, hugging him back, "Same to you. You've done so much for us, we owe you a ton of favors. You're important to us too, Rudy. Really."

The skinny man goes slightly red and smiles, turning to Dorian.

"You know," he says, "I always knew you would have a fuller life than you thought. You're incredibly special, Dorian. And loved. And I'm lucky to call you a friend. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all. I'm happy to help."

Dorian blinks away the beginnings of tears, "Thanks Rudy. You're amazing and I'm really going to miss you. You've done so much for me. And you've never treated me like I was less than anyone else. Thank you." He finishes, hugging him. Rudy beams and pats him on the back.

"I see you're taking my advice." Sandra says, turning to John.

"Yeah." He says, "To be fair, it was good advice. You're right. I think this will be good for us."

She nods, "Take care of yourselves. Both of you." She looks between John and Dorian, "If you ever want your jobs back there's also a place for you at my precinct. But...take it easy for a while. And take care of each other."

Dorian hugs her and thanks her with teary eyes, and John steps forward to embrace his oldest friend. They've known each other forever, and she has always looked out for him. As his friend. As his captain.

"I'm gonna miss you." He tells her. 

"You too." She smiles.

And John steps back and looks at this amazing, brave, and strong group of people he's been gifted with. They chat and laugh with each other until John and Dorian get into the truck, Vanilla hopping in beside them after getting one last scratch behind the ears from Richard and Ellie.

They look out of the windows and into the happy faces of their family.

The family they both never imagined they'd be lucky enough to have.

"Bye!" Ellie says again, bouncing on her feet and waving.

"Don't stir up any trouble until I visit, okay?" Celeste adds, putting an arm around her girlfriend.

"Dorian you better call me _every day_." Valerie calls, hands on her hips, "Don't make me come looking for you."

"Stay safe you two." Richard says, grinning.

Sandra waves and gives them a mischievous wink.

Rudy looks them both in the eyes and gives them a bright smile.

And it's bittersweet. It's so, _so_ bittersweet, because they're going to _miss_ these people with everything they have. To the end of the earth and back. John's going to want to call up Valerie and ask if she wants to watch a movie only to remember that she's so far away. Celeste will only be able to beat him at video games online now. Dorian and Richard won't be able to take Vanilla on short walks around the block anymore. Ellie won't be around to commandeer John's guitar and fill the house with music. No more drinks with Sandra. No more trips to Rudy's lab.

A part of this hurts. A lot. But part of it is so exciting. He gets to build a life with Dorian, and Dorian gets to _have_ a life in a place that holds no memories and gives them the opportunity to create _more_. 

Happy ones.

Good ones.

And their friends are so _happy_ for them, even if it means they have to lose them for a while. Even if they're apart.

John's heart clenches and Dorian lets out a watery, teary laugh as the small group wave and shout their goodbyes as they pull out of the parking lot.

They'll probably never see this house again.

John and Dorian wave and and give them all one final goodbye.

The group gets smaller as they drive further away. Away from this city. Away from everything it holds.

Leaving everything behind. Shedding old burdens and freeing themselves up for something new. Fresh.

A lot is to be said about new starts, and when John feels Dorian's hand on his, John realizes he doesn't have to say _anything_.

Their future is laid out for them. All they have to do is hold hands and experience it together. 

And Dorian, beautiful, funny, infuriating, perfectly imperfect Dorian, looks out of the window at the city they're leaving behind, and draws on the fog of the glass. This time he draws them. John. Vanilla. Himself. Smiling.

Always together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue next!


	55. Epilogue

**5 hours later~**

"Close your eyes."

"John--"

"C'mon, D. Humor me."

"Fine."

John takes his hand, the engine of the moving truck still running and purring behind them. Vanilla happily bounces beside them, yipping softly like she knows what's going on.

John suspects she probably does.

John leads Dorian by the hand and positions him in front of the house that is now where they'll call home, and takes a breath.

"Okay, D. Open your eyes."

The house is on the larger side, and is currently painted a rich dark blue that is only interrupted by the green of the vines and flowers that run up to the roof and coil around the house as if the plantlife is determined to protect the structure. 

The flowers are in various colors though the majority of them seem to be pink, and the cobblestone walkway isn't even safe from the tendrils of grass and flora that rise between the stones. The entire property is protected by a black, thick wire gate like the Victorian homes of old, and the entrance is in an arch wrapped in vines.

On either side of the walkway is a garden run rampant with color, fire lamps and stone figures. The house is topped off with a burgundy colored roof and windows with shutters to match it.

It looks like something out of a fairytale. 

"So," John starts smugly, because the look on Dorian's face basically says it all, and asking is honestly just to feed his own ego, "do you like it?"

"John." The DRN breathes, eyes wide and blue lights skittering down his cheeks, "John, it's absolutely _beautiful_."

John grins at the awe and emotion in Dorian's voice, and Vanilla barks in agreement.

"I--" Dorian looks shocked, like he can't quite believe what he's seeing, "It's _perfect_. How did you--?"

"It took some searching but, " he shrugs, "I found it eventually."

"I...," Dorian pauses, at a loss for words, "I... _John_...it's _perfect_."

And John can only grin for about a millisecond before he's being kissed. Vanilla shoves herself in the middle of their legs.

Dorian kisses him and wraps his arms around John's neck (and the human is amused that he has to stand on tiptoe to reach him) and pulls him as close as he can.

Dorian kisses him in front of their new house. Covered in green.

Vanilla wags her tail.

**2 weeks later~**

The house is covered in boxes.

It's also as beautiful inside as it is on the outside, with mahogany flooring and white carpet. Dorian is thrilled there's a fireplace, and Vanilla curls up in front of it as soon as they get it lit and burning.

"Lazy fluffball." John grumbles, petting her as he opens a box and starts unpacking, "The least you could do is help."

The canine looks at him. Then goes to sleep.

Typical. John snorts and gets to taking out the rest of the dishes and putting them in the pale blue floral cabinets in the kitchen.

Dorian is in love with this house. The walls of the living room are brick and the heat stays in, warming the place as the December air starts to pick up. The ceilings are high and the space is wide and roomy. There's no wall separating the kitchen and living room, but the space is so large they'll have no trouble fitting a table in addition to couches and a television.

John stops and blinks. It's December, isn't it?

Christmas. With everything he'd almost forgotten, and that causes his breath to pick up a bit. _How could he forget?_ Dorian has never had a proper Christmas and John fucking _forgot_. He almost _forgot_ their first Christmas as a couple and _fuck_ John is _awfulawfulawful_ \--

Vanilla shoves herself against him and barks in his face. Only then does he realize he's been hyperventilating. He breathes and clutches the dog's fur, struggling to calm his racing heart.

"John?" And then Dorian is at his side, having run down the stairs, "John? Can you hear me?"

The human blinks.

"John?" The DRN takes his face in his hands, pressing close and looking in his eyes. John's mind just...disconnects.

"It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. Everything is alright. You're safe." Dorian says, voice even and soft, "Your name is John Edward Kennex. The date is December 3rd, 2049. My name is Dorian. Our dog's name is Vanilla. We live in Savanna, Georgia."

The human's panicked mind latches onto the information, and the beginnings of recognition and consciousness start to bloom.

"Your parents are Edward and Paige Kennex." Dorian continues, calm and slow, cradling John's face in his hands, "Your friends names are Valerie, Richard, Sandra, Rudy, Ellie and Celeste. You have brown hair and hazel eyes. You stand at 6'1 and weigh approximately 180 lbs."

"Dorian?" He croaks, mind soaking up the information and coming back online. He blinks at the concerned DRN.

"What happened?"

Dorian caresses his cheek, eyes filled with worry, "You had a panic attack and then started to disassociate. How are you feeling?"

"Uh," he says, distracted by Dorian's touch and leaning into it, "I think...I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Dorian asks, looking like he's about to snap and call an ambulance.

John nods and smiles, "Yeah. Let's finish unpacking."

"John--"

"I'm okay, D. I promise." He assures him, pressing a kiss to his partner's cheek. John stands and offers Dorian his hand. 

The DRN still looks unsure, but John knows he can't fully explain away his worry, so he squeezes his hand and takes him upstairs.

There are four rooms with connecting bathrooms (and yeah sure, maybe John picked the house with their friends in mind) and one large room that is theirs with a connecting master bathroom.

He takes Dorian into their bedroom and stands in the middle of it.

"I was thinking we could paint the walls," he says, looking around, "Something light, you know?"

Dorian joins him and gazes at the blank white walls, "I think I'd like that. What color did you have in mind?"

"Hm." John says, glancing at his partner as he looks at the walls thoughtfully.

He looks at Dorian's eyes. Blue. So, so blue.

"Blue?" He says, looking at the wall in front of him.

"That would be very nice." Dorian says dreamily, eyes wondering over the room, "I like it."

"Awesome" The human grins before taking his partner's hand again.

"Let's finish unpacking."

~

"Vanilla, move!" John grumbles, pushing the fluffy white dog from the open paint can, "You know you're not supposed to be up here. You're _white_ , for God's sake."

"Vanilla." Dorian says, looking the dog in the eye, "Downstairs."

She gives them both a petulant look (or as petulant a look a dog can manage), and pads down the steps.

One wall is painted.

So are they. Their clothes are streaked with lines of blue.

John is _sure_ there's some paint in his hair, and Dorian has some on his cheek, but that doesn't stop them from goofing off more than covering the walls in the light blue they've picked out. 

They _technically_ should have been done hours ago, but between the laughing, kissing and paint fights, they haven't gotten even half of it done.

Doesn't matter. It's not like they have a time limit.

They kinda do, actually. 

Dorian flicks some paint at John with a cheeky smile. John retaliates with a dot of blue on the DRN's nose and a kiss.

They get the walls painted eventually. So that's all that matters.

~

By December 12, the house seems to be coming together. There are less and less crates cluttering the floor every day as things find their place.

The couch is moved in and placed by the fireplace. Vanilla's dog bed has been placed there also, simply because the dog likes that spot so much, and their bedroom is now more than a bed and Dorian's charger.

He doesn't have to use it nearly as often as he used to, now that sleeping recharges him quite a bit, but he likes having it close-by just in case. 

Their clothes are placed in closets and dressers. The toiletries find their way into the bathroom.

The tub is large, and doubles as a jacuzzi and a shower. John can't wait to try it out. 

John's guitar is placed in their room, along with two bookshelves full of books they want to keep close.

Televisions are put in the bedroom and another one is ordered for the living room.

And every morning, John makes a small, secret little routine of his own. He opens his eyes, takes a breath and softly says, "We'll be okay."

For some reason, it helps. So much.

~

By December 16, all of the boxes are gone.

This place is theirs.

~

On December 18th, Dorian has his first therapy session since the move with Valentina via video chat. John settles in another part of the house to give them space and privacy. Vanilla spends her time running between them to make sure they're both okay.

John looks into the fireplace and takes a breath, closing his eyes.

An hour later, a red eyed Dorian comes downstairs and wraps himself around him. John opens his arms and brings him close.

John takes a breath, holding Dorian and pressing the words, "You'll be okay." into the curls of Dorian's hair.

~

On December 20th, John and Dorian get a call, and plans are made.

That same day, they finally go out to explore the area. The snow from the day before crunches under their feet as more gently falls. 

It's beautiful. 

Soft white powder covers the green arches that curve over the sidewalk at equal intervals. The leaves pokes through the snow, and the entire town is something out of a Christmas painting. Small, quaint little shops and small parks. Weeping willows and plantlife still thriving, even in the cold.

The greenery wears the snow like a beautiful accessory. 

The sky is gray, and they walk hand in hand as Vanilla walks beside them in her service vest. John's wrapped up in a coat, scarf, hat, gloves.

So is Dorian. 

And John doesn't know if it's the code that they activated within the DRN or if he always had the red cheeks and nose that come with being in cold weather.

The DRN's scarf wraps around his face, disappearing into his blue coat. His eyes also seem to be watering in response to the slight wind. 

John can't stop looking at him.

Dorian squeezes his hand, looks up at him and gives him a brilliant smile and _god_ , he's so, so, so grateful and blissfully happy that Dorian smiles like that again. That he's gotten everything he never thought he would have. He's happy that he makes him happy 

Dorian looks at him, red cheeks and all, and presses closer to John, eyes sparkling.

John can't help it. He beams.

They stop at each store and buy presents and decorations.

~

In the middle of the night John is startled awake.

Dorian is sitting up before he can even blink in terror or register the fact that he's hyperventilating. His partner takes his face in his hands gently and starts with the usual stream of information that helps John reconnect in the event of disassociation, and by the end Dorian is pressing soft kisses to his eyelids with a gentle whisper of, "You'll be okay." 

He believes him.

They'll be okay.

~

On December 21st, they spend the entire day with Christmas carols drifting through the house as they put up decorations. 

They're expecting company, after all.

Vanilla barks and tries to wiggle out of the tinsel that Dorian wraps her in, and John sets the stockings over the fireplace. Instead of three, there are nine.

Vanilla gets one too.

~

On December 22nd, they get a tree.

John chooses at Dorian's insistence (because the DRN is extremely indecisive), and they end up going home with the biggest tree they can find.

They spend the day decorating it.

Vanilla tries to eat ornaments, John sweeps a giggling Dorian into his arms for a dance and some Christmas cookie flavored kisses, and by the end the tree is vastly over-decorated and absolutely perfect.

They sit down and admire their work, Vanilla sniffing at the candy canes that hang lowest in the branches, and Dorian kisses John likes he's the only one in the world.

~

On December 23rd, John convinces Dorian to try a candy cane.

The DRN has the ability to eat now, and he always had an ability to taste things, seeing as he has tastebuds, but he's honestly just a tad disgusted about how the food comes out afterward.

 _Really_. He finds it slightly ridiculous.

So he hasn't really tried any foods yet. Little tastes of things here and there, but honestly, he kind of forgets he can eat if he chooses to. He's never had to before, so the habit simply isn't ingrained in him like it is in John. It's also a very big change, and with so many changes happening lately, he wants to worry about certain things at a later date. 

He'd like to adjust before he complicates his life any further.

But the candy looks so interesting in color and shape that he finds himself taking the candy cane from John and inspecting it.

Peppermint. What does peppermint taste like? Has he ever had it? Probably not.

He unwraps the end of the candy cane with little thought and sticks it in his mouth, blue lights glittering up and down his face.

Oh. _Oh_.

"It's _good_." Dorian hums, looking at John, "I really like it."

"Told you so." John smirks.

~

December 24th is when they arrive.

Valerie and Richard pull into the garage in the same car, holding hands and smiling shyly at each other every now and again. Ellie and Celeste pull into the driveway right after them, and then Sandra steps out of her car along with Rudy in the passenger's seat.

The greetings are loud and teary, Valerie letting go of Richard's hand to throw her arms around Dorian as they tear up and laugh, just so happy to see each other's face in person.

"Hey old man." Celeste smiles, walking up to him, "Still alive, I see."

John rolls his eyes and hugs her, "Little brat." He grumbles before hugging Ellie.

"John. Finally. Someone to argue with." Richard smirks. John snorts and claps him on the shoulder with a dry, "Nice to see you too."

"Oh my god." Valerie smiles, "I missed you so much." They finally let go of each other, and Dorian hears a quiet voice say, "Hello. It's nice to see you again. Merry Christmas." And turns to see Ellie, smiling and looking at him with big eyes. 

Dorian sweeps her into a tight hug that she returns as she giggles.

_< Hello Ellie! I'm so glad to see you. I missed you a lot. Merry christmas. How are you?>_

The girl beams before she quickly signs, _< I'm fine. I'm glad to be spending Christmas here. I really like you guys. And I missed you.>_

 _< We missed you too. And we're so glad you're here. We have a room for you and everything. I'm really glad you're here for Christmas. You and Celeste are like family to me.>_ Dorian signs, smiling faintly.

_< You guys are like family to me to. This is going to be a lot of fun. I'm glad I get to be a part of it.>_

Dorian can't help but hug her again.

Rudy beams and gives Dorian a tight hug and a soft, "How are you?"

Dorian returns the embrace and smiles softly, "A lot better."

"Oh," the tech says, relaxing and letting out a relieved breath and a smile, "I am so glad to hear that, my friend."

"This house is _beautiful_." Sandra breathes, taking in her surroundings as she walks up the cobblestone path leading to the door, "Good job, John."

"I know, it's gorgeous." Valerie adds dreamily, looking at the house, "It looks like something straight out of a Christmas card."

"Thanks." John grins, "I guess I did good, huh?"

Sandra huffs a laugh and Valerie nudges him, "Yeah, you did okay." She teases, smiling.

John and Dorian's front steps are filled with people hugging and warmly greeting each other before Celeste demands to see the house and they all troop inside.

Snow dusted boots and coats are left by the door, scarves are hung up and hats are put in front of the fireplace to dry before everyone is off and exploring different parts of the house. Rudy is impressed with the weather and news reporter that projects the holographic images and turns the wall by their bed into a touch screen computer (John is actually smugly proud that now he has something Rudy gawks at. He has to admit, he's thrilled they splurged and got it. It wakes them up and everything.), Valerie is in love with the burgundy ceramic of the bathrooms and the general vintage nature of the house. Ellie is taken with the music player they've installed into the wall. She smiles as she presses her hand to the speakers and feels the bass, smiling lightly. She also ends up finding John's guitar and hijacking it, playing softly and feeling the proper notes with her fingers.

She can't hear the music, but John doesn't doubt that she's in tune with it like no one else is. Hearing doesn't matter.

Richard is in front of the fireplace with Vanilla, petting the dog and catching up on ear scratches. He clearly has a quota to fill.

Sandra sits on the couch and curls up with her feet under her, looking right at home, her head laid back and her eyes closed.

And yet again, John is reminded why he loves these people. Here they all are, on Christmas Eve as the group wanders back into the living area, taking seats on the carpet and the armchairs. 

They fill each other in on what's been going on in the personal bubbles that are their lives. Sandra is dating a man that works at LumiCorp  (apparently he's a walking ladies magnet in a slick suit. John demands to meet and threaten him.), Rudy rearranged his computers and fused them together to create some super computer  (John didn't understand half of the techy things the man said, but he's happy for him) Celeste and Ellie moved in together.

Ellie is trying to talk more, just so she's more comfortable with it. 

Celeste is by her side every step of the way. 

Valerie and Richard are dating. They hold hands and tell them the news with a lot of stuttering and blushing. There are congratulations and whistling along with friendly catcalls that makes Richard roll his eyes, but no one is surprised.

Happy for them? Immensely.

Surprised? Not in the least.

The rest of the day is spent laughing, making cookies, encouraging Ellie to talk and smiling warmly at her when she does, and just generally savoring the love and security of family. Not of blood, no one here _has_ anymore blood family, but of choice.

They all _chose_ each other. They're all outcasts with no blood relatives left, but they aren't without a family.

They have each other.

John looks over at Ellie who is his baking companion, and smiles wide when the girl looks at him and says, "More icing on these?"

Dorian laughs from his place in front of the radio with Valerie and Rudy.

Richard, Celeste and Sandra are engrossed in a conversation about God knows what.

"Yeah." John says, "I think know some more icing would be good. What about you?"

She smiles and nods. 

They stay up for hours just sitting in the living area talking and listening to Christmas music, and at the end of the night presents are brought in from all their cars and placed under the enormous tree. John and Dorian take the beautifully wrapped gifts they bought out of their hiding place and put them under the tree as well.

And then the rest of the night is spent looking at the tree in admiration and trying to guess gifts (Ellie reading lips with Dorian and Celeste signing to her when she asks what someone has said) before it's kisses and 'goodnight's and everyone going to their respective rooms.

John pulls Dorian close, and the DRN rests his head on John's chest as Vanilla plops herself on their legs. They share kisses and 'I love you's until they drift off to sleep only to be woken by an excited Celeste and Ellie on Christmas morning.

"It's Christmas!" Ellie says happily, voice a bit louder and stronger.

"C'mon old man!" The redhead says, poking John in the side, "It's Christmas! Get up!"

John chases her down and childishly yanks at her hair after he kisses a smiling Dorian good morning and takes his leg off its charger.

Downstairs they're met with a grumbling and tired Richard and a smiling, sleepy Valerie. Rudy might as well be buzzing he's so excited, and Sandra seems to be on the verge of _actually_ being asleep on the couch.

Until Vanilla decides to use her lap as a seat, that is.

Presents are exchanged and opened (and John gives Celeste a dirty look when one of her gifts to him is a shirt that says 'World's Best Worst Video Game Player') as the Christmas music drifts through the house.

Dorian is completely enamored with the holo-computer Valerie and Richard get him, and the glass case of happily fluttering robotic butterflies Rudy gives him (it's so otherworldly and beautiful that it earns the tech more hugs and 'thank you's' than he was probably expecting). He hugs Sandra in thanks for the camera, and hugs Celeste and Ellie when he unwraps the fluffy animatronic teddy bear that immediately snaps to life and looks at him with interest. The bear looks at him and blinks it's big green eyes and...hugs him. The DRN is in love with the thing.

John has the feeling he's been replaced as a cuddling partner.

Ellie gives John a tight hug and a loud "Thank you!" when she unwraps the newest model of LumiCorp's electric guitar he's gotten her. 

Celeste gives John a dirty look when she unwraps a new backpack with the words 'BRAT' stitched into the front, but forgives him, (kinda) when she opens the book of deepweb directories he's gotten her (which he's pretty sure he shouldn't have given her, judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes when she thanks him and excitedly flips through its LED lit pages).

Valerie is also given an animatronic bear, and refuses to let go of the wiggling, furry thing even to kiss Richard. 

Richard's jealousy is forgotten when he opens his brand new home AI system, specially designed by Rudy.

Presents are opened and clearly have all been thoughtfully picked out for the receivers (even the gag ones) and the entire day is spent convincing Dorian to try eggnog and various other foods, laughing and fawning over gifts, trying to keep Vanilla from stealing and running off with the robotic bears and just generally having the best Christmas any of them have had in awhile, if ever.

It's perfect.

**2 months later~**

The snow has melted. It's still slightly chilly, but it's February and the chill seems to be on its way out.

Dorian has his weekly therapy video chat sessions with Valentina, and John ends up seeing a therapist and psychiatrist in the town at Dorian's insistence when he has a severe panic attack in public and is only barely calmed down by Vanilla. 

Dorian has been worried out of his mind ever since.

John hadn't fought the recommendation, because he knows he needs help as much as Dorian knows, so he lines his sessions up with Dorian's so they're not apart for too long, and ends up doing a lot better due to the anxiety medication he's given. Dorian makes sure he takes it consistently.

Days are spent with walks in the park, strolls around the beautiful town and dates in restaurants, carnivals and movie theaters. They rent movies and argue about who's turn it is to given Vanilla a bath or wash the dishes. They lay in bed and look into each other's eyes and kiss for hours, just savoring each other's company. 

It's peaceful and slow and so stupidly domestic. 

It's perfect.

It's not to say there aren't complications. There are some days where John just can't seem to stop panicking about everything and Vanilla has to be glued to his side. There are days when Dorian can't stand to be touched and triggers are everywhere.

They both have nightmares, and days where they just have to stay away from each other until they're both less haunted and likely to start screaming or crying. 

It's _still_ perfect, because those dark times always come to an end and are chased away by the good days that outnumber the bad. The days when John can stand to be outside and not locked in a dark room away from all noise, or days when Dorian can lay on the couch with John and watch a movie without a thought or a trickle of fear. Dorian can lay on his back and be completely comfortable as John presses him into the mattress and kisses him breathless. John doesn't jump at the small sounds of the kitchen appliances as often.

The good days outnumber the bad more and more.

That makes it perfect.

They'll be okay.

**4 months later~**

They decide to paint the guestrooms.

They bicker over the colors and Vanilla looks at them with curiosity, but eventually they settle on maroon. It'll match the bathrooms.

This time is a lot like the first. More giggling and goofing off than painting, and at some point Dorian ends up being responsible for the streak of maroon paint on John's cheek. The DRN laughs and John playfully tackles him to the ground.

"Dorian Kennex," John grins as Dorian laughs and tries to wiggle away from the paint John is trying to smear on his face, "you should have known better."

Dorian gives in and giggles when John marks his cheek in revenge before he smirks, "Kennex, huh?"

"Yeah, what else would you be?" The human grins, looking down at his partner who's pinned under him in a half painted room with paint on his cheek and a smile on his face.

Dorian shrugs, "Not sure. I technically don't have a last name."

It's true, he doesn't. The forms just inform the government that his name is Dorian. That's all.

John stops, and before he opens his mouth he knows what he's going to say. It's already on his tongue. It has been for a very long time.

He looks into Dorian's blue, blue eyes and gets lost for a long moment.

"Then take mine." He says, eyes never leaving the DRN's, "Marry me."

Dorian looks at him, eyes wide and searching the human's face for any indication that John is joking.

He isn't. John hasn't been this serious about anything...possibly ever.

"Did you...just ask me...to marry you?" Dorian breathes, face lighting up in streaks of blue. He looks up into hazel eyes like he can't quite believe what's happening. The shock rolls off of him in waves.

John doesn't hesitate in his response.

"Yeah." He says softly, " Yeah, D. I did."

The DRN looks up at him in pleasant, stifling surprise until he snaps out of it and gasps, "God, yes." before throwing his arms around John's neck and kissing him.

The rest of the room doesn't get painted that day. A good chunk of it is spent on a paint flecked floor as he kisses and wipes the happy tears from Dorian's face in between soft and reverant 'I love you's.

Dorian. His partner. His lover. His best friend.

His fiancé. 

**7 months later~**

"Shit," John says, anxiety wracking his body, "Richard, do you know if this is straight?"

The man turns from the mirror where he fixes his own tie, and then is in front of John diligently adjusting the fabric.

"There." He says, stepping back and looking at him, "You look great. Just...for gods sake' calm down, okay?"

"I'm trying!" John gasps, looking terrified.

"John." Richard says, looking him in the eye, "You're getting _married_. Not making an inaugural speech, okay? You look _great_ , and everything is going to be _great_. _Calm down._ I can't have the groom passing out, it makes me look like a shitty best man."

The joke helps slightly, and John snorts and manages a small, shaky smile.

"There we go." Richard chides, "Okay, did you take your meds today?"

John nods, "Yeah. They're not being very fucking helpful, though."

Sandra pokes her head in the door before she steps in and quickly closes it behind her. She's in a light blue, floor length wrap around dress that's uniform for all the bridesmaids. 

"It's almost showtime." She says, looking at John, "You clean up well. You look amazing." Then she pauses, "But you look like you're about to throw up."

"I'm okay," he breathes shakily, "at least I think so. Is Dorian ready?"

"Yep." She smiles, tucking a strand of her brown curly hair back into her intricately braided bun, "He looks great, John. Seriously."

"Maybe I should go see him--"

"Nope." Richard says firmly, cutting him off, "No seeing each other until Dorian walks down that aisle. No discussion." 

John groans.

~

"Dorian calm down," Valerie soothes , looking at the anxious DRN, "or you'll short out or something. It'll make me look like an awful maid of honor."

He manages a shaky smile, "I'm trying, I just..." he pauses, looking terrified, "Why am I the one that's coming down the aisle? What if I trip or something?"

Her eyes narrow and she smirks in amusement, "Dorian, when have you ever tripped? _Ever_?"

"I don't know but what if this is when I do--"

She steps in front of him and adjusts his bright blue tie and checks over his white suit. Valerie nods in satisfaction. Perfect. Not a crease out of place.

"Listen," She says firmly, "You look amazing, and John loves you. Everyone in the audience loves you. The venue is _gorgeous_ and looks like it came out of a damn fairytale. It's going be _wonderful_. Please calm down."

The DRN nods, though he still looks extremely high strung. Ellie peeks her head in the door before smiling and coming in, quickly closing it behind her so no one gets a glimpse of Dorian inside.

Her eyes widen and she gasps in excitement when she sees him.

"Oh Dorian," She says softly, "you look beautiful!"

"Thanks Ellie." He smiles, "So do you."

She's wearing the same dress as all of the bridesmaids, but she has a small flower pinned on her dress and resting against her skin. Rudy made it for her. He explains that it taps out a series patterns that Ellie has learned so she can know what everyone is saying without exhausting herself and reading lips.

She hasn't missed a beat since.

Valerie looks gorgeous as well, brown eyes bright and hair up and elegant. 

Rudy pops in and hurriedly closes the door.

"It's almost time." He says, adjusting a cufflink on his suit, "Wow, Dorian. You look amazing."

He smiles, "Thanks, Rudy."

"Please don't be too nervous." Ellie says softly, "It will be really beautiful. You'll do great."

Dorian can't help it, he hugs her.

Valerie fussed over him some more, and then the ring of a bell indicates that people are being seated.

~

"You ready old man?" Celeste says, adjusting her suit in the mirror and fiddling with her tie.

"Yeah." John says, letting out a shaky breath, "Let's go."

~

John is really, really trying not to look too obviously nervous, but _shit_ , he's getting _married_. If there's any day in which he is allowed to be scared shitless and look like he's two clicks from throwing up, _today_ is that day.

Valerie and Ellie really outdid themselves though. The location looks like something out of Alice In Wonderland (which is a story Dorian seems to like quite a lot),  and the sun is shining bright over the white, outdoor tent that the guests have moved to be seated in. 

Everything looks beautiful. 

The audience isn't big, mostly just fellow cops and close friends of theirs, but it's perfect. John has never understood weddings that were so comically packed that it's obvious that the bride and groom don't know half the people attending. 

The weather is cool, and John is grateful because if it wasn't he knows he'd be sweating and ruining his suit. The cloth of the tent billows in the breeze and John smells some jasmine and lavender as everyone takes their seats and smiles in his direction. 

It's peaceful, small and beautifully, absolutely perfect.

Celeste and Ellie enter arm in arm, Celeste sharp in a suit and Ellie looking like a princess out of a storybook. They spread rose petals as they makes their way down the aisle, and Ellie giggles when Celeste presses a kiss to her cheek before they separate,  Ellie going to the side Dorian will be on and Celeste standing behind John.

Sandra and her date arrive down the aisle next, the man looking at Sandra like she's the most precious thing in the world and Sandra smiling wider than John has ever seen.

Valentina sits in the first row, eyes teary and taking pictures. She's kind of declared herself Dorian's mom. She fusses over him just like she had a hand in creating him.

And then John is wrenched out of his thoughts and the breath is knocked out of him when the music starts and the audience turns to watch Dorian enter.

Because Dorian looks _nervous_ and _excited_ and so fucking radiantly _beautiful_ that John forgets to breathe for a while. Valerie walks arm in arm with him, beaming because she gets to give Dorian away (she honestly was willing to physically _fight_ for the part, and really, her fierce determination scared everyone half to death), and John's heartbeat hammers against his ribcage when his hazel meets blue eyes that he's been staring into for the better part of two years.

The world flips from real-time to slow motion, and John wants to memorize every little tiny detail of Dorian walks down that aisle towards him to take his last name.

To spend the rest of his life with him.

God. He's gorgeous and John's brain basically stops working when his partner is right in front of him. 

The rest of the world fades out and the nervousness is gone as John moves on autopilot and takes Dorian's hands in his, chest tightening at the sight of that smile and the fact that those blue eyes are looking at him like he's the only one that matters.

The minister is talking, but neither of them are listening, John can tell, because everything the man is saying are things they've already promised each other.

To always be there.

To always understand. 

To always love. 

To always help.

To always listen.

To never abandon, and to always cherish. 

Always trust.

Always respect. 

Always compromise.

To never let go.

They've ready promised each other all of these things, so when it comes time for vows John already has the words on the tip of his tongue. He just has to take Dorian's hand and say them.

"I'm still trying to figure out how I even deserve someone like you.", John says, "And I'm not sure I do, but I'm lucky to have you to love anyway. You gave me everything I never thought I could have, and I still can't believe that you, the beautiful person you are, let me catch you and keep you to be my own.", Dorian lets out a watery, shy laugh and John squeezes his hand, looking in his eyes, "And I don't think I'll ever understand it, really. But I'm just...grateful that you're mine. And that I get to be yours. I...I don't think I'll ever be able to put in words how much I love you and how much you mean to me. How you're my world and I would do anything for you. But,", John lifts a hand so softly wipe away a happy tear that makes its way down Dorian's cheek, "I have a lifetime to show you. And I will. I love you, more than I can ever say."

The fact that Dorian is looking at him like he hung the moon distracts him from the sniffles in the audience and of the bridesmaids and groomsmen behind him, and all he cares about is the fact that his partner is looking at him with such adoration that John can barely breathe.

The rest of the world is silent.

"I didn't think I would have any of this, before you.", Dorian starts, eyes wet, "You've fought for me and comforted me. You've healed me and refused to let me break apart and drift away. And I can never thank you enough for loving me and letting me love you in return. You've always gone the extra mile for me, and I can't even begin to tell you how much I love you or that I would do any and everything for you. You're my everything, and I'll love you forever. And long after that. You put me back together again, and you never gave up on me. You still think you're so difficult to love when the exact opposite is true. I can't help but love you and cherish you. I can't help but trust you and always want your arms around me because you make me feel safe. I love you more than I could ever express. And I can't wait to show you that. Over and over again."

And it takes everything in John to stop him from kissing Dorian silly right there because he's never had this warmth in his chest before. But Dorian does this to him and he's so far gone and can't imagine being any other way.

They stare into each other's eyes and Valerie and Richard present the rings.

John takes Dorian's from Valerie, the cool metal in his fingers as he gently takes Dorian's hand and looks into happy blue eyes.

"Do you, John Kennex, take Dorian to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Finally. _Finally_ he gets to say those words. And he doesn't bother to correct the minister and say that even death won't separate them, but instead he slips the gold band onto Dorian's finger, caresses his cheek and says, "I do."

"And do you, Dorian, take John to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

Dorian looks into his eyes with such reverence that he feels like the air has been punched out of him before Dorian take his hand and slips the ring into John's finger with a gentle, "I do."

They can't look away from each other. Nothing else matters. The world could fall down right now and they wouldn't notice.

John knows that if it can't be found in Dorian's eyes, right now he doesn't care about it.

"Then, by the power invested in me, I pronounce you husband and husband.", the minister smiles, "You may kiss the groom."

And then every crackle of life in John jumps to life and he takes Dorian--his husband--in his arms and claims his lips, chest warming as the DRN melts into him and wraps his arms around John's neck, kissing him like he's all he needs.

This is where Dorian belongs. In his arms and on his lips and in his heart. At some point Vanilla--in her little bowtie--breaks away from Valentina and shoves herself between them and sits on their feet.

If he'd been paying attention, John would have heard the deafening cheers of the audience, but all he hears is Dorian's soft, dreamy little sigh as John holds him and kisses him for the first time as his husband.

~

They sign the registry and the reception starts. The food comes out and the music turns on, the ceremony tent abandoned for the larger, more open one that has the tables and dance floor. John and Dorian don't let go of each other, congratulations and hugs notwithstanding.

John catches glimpses of their rings and can't help smile that breaks out over his face. And god, Dorian looks so _happy_ and holds his hand so tightly that John is having trouble thinking this isn't a dream. A really amazing dream.

Food is served and John feeds Dorian as the DRN giggles and Valerie and Richard press together and steal food off of each other's plates next to them. Celeste and Ellie barely let each other go as they press pasta flavored kisses to each other's lips. Rudy laughs with one of the cops that John recognizes as officer Henderson. They seem to be flirting.

Dorian presses a kiss to John's cheek and the hazel eyed man wraps and arm around his husband and laughs into the soft skin of his neck as he pulls him close.

They accept congratulations after congratulations, and John is only mildly annoyed at his attention being forced from Dorian every now and again until people drift from the tables to the open floor to dance and mingle.

For a while John and Dorian don't move from their seats, choosing to stay wrapped up in each other other and kiss. John tries to get as many giggles out of Dorian as he can until he takes the DRN's hands and lead him to the open space where it's announced that they'll have their first dance.

John wraps his arms around Dorian's waist, and Dorian wraps his arms around John's neck, pressing close as they sway and stare into each other's eyes like they don't have the sight of them memorized already. 

They love each other so much they could burst, and it shows. Their first dance comes to an end and John can't help kissing his husband again.

The crowd cheers (and he hears Celeste shout 'get a room'), before the music changes and Dorian is being stolen for a dance by Valerie and Sandra is pulling John into their own dance off.

And it's all dancing and laughing until the cake comes out.

And then, well, it's still dancing and laughing, just with cake being used more as a weapon than a dessert. 

John and Dorian cut the cake together and Dorian smiles cheekily as he smears a bit of the frosting on John's nose. John retaliates by distracting him with a kiss them smearing some of the white and blue icing on his cheek.

Valerie rolls her eyes at the pair until Richard grabs her and ends up getting some of the confectionery on the giggling woman's chin.

And that's how John and Dorian end up with frosting on their faces as Sandra presents them with their honeymoon plans.

"You said that you trusted us to choose," Sandra smiles as the crowd catcalls and makes 'woo!' sounds behind them, waiting in anticipation for the reveal of their honeymoon destination, "so we decided to send you two to the Caribbean for a few days, but not in some hotel," She grins, "in a private beachside villa where it's just the two of you. You leave by bullet train in an hour. We have your bags packed."

Celeste and Ellie laugh at their expressions, Valerie and Richard hug the stunned couple as the guests holler and clap.

"Guys...", Dorian chokes, "I can't believe you did this for us."

"Believe it.", Richard smirks.

John hugs Sandra and looks around at their circle of friends.

"I love you guys.", he laughs, taking Dorian's hand.

"Yeah well, we obviously love you guys too," Celeste smiles, "why do you think I even came to this? I usually hate weddings. But this was a pretty rad party."

Ellie rolls her eyes fondly at her girlfriend before she says, "What she _means_ is that we love you guys too and would do anything for you."

"Yeah I guess it can also be interpreted like that." The redhead shrugs.

"Take at lot of pictures.", Rudy tells them.

~

They have a few more dances before they're basically kicked out of their own wedding on seen off on the train, everyone waving and blowing them kisses as the car pulls off.

Vanilla sits on the seat across from them asleep as John pulls Dorian onto his lap and kisses him senseless.

~

John is really going to have to tell Sandra that she is a miracle worker.

The little beachside house doesn't even look real, neither does the water, it's so perfect. 

They have the entire place to themselves--all shimmering blue water, cool breezes and white sand--and the house is beautifully decorated and comfortable. 

They ditch their luggage by the door and Dorian presses his body to John's as he captures mouth and bites at his lips, sighing in such contentment that John feels himself hardening in his pants almost immediately.

They're still wearing their wedding suits, though it's not long until they're on the large, soft bed. Dorian is in John's lap yet again, and has his hands in his hair just how he likes.

John is so caught up in Dorian being so close and being able to taste his partner--his _husband_ \--that he almost misses the words Dorian sighs into his mouth.

"Make love to me.", he sighs, voice breathy and soft, looking John in the eyes with kiss bitten lips and red cheeks, "Please, John." 

John's brain pretty much short circuits because Dorian is in his arms and so _close_ , needing his love and affection and John is so fucking _ready_ to give it to him.

To give him everything. Everything he can, and even quite a few things he can't.

John looks into blue eyes and wraps an arm around Dorian's waist before laying his husband down on the mattress and kissing him deeply, tasting him and licking into his mouth as the DRN sighs and moans into his touch as John pulls him close.

The sheets are pale blue.

Dorian looks beautiful on them.

The waves crash outside and the breeze blows softly, filling the house with salty ocean air as John slowly and lovingly strips his husband and presses gentle, reverent fingerprints into every bit of precious skin he reveals. John's mind is in an endless loop of _touchtouchtouchtouch_ because his husband's soft skin under his fingers has him caressing every expanse of that beautiful brown he can see.

Dorian sighs and bites his lips as his husband touches him, and John never tears his gaze away from the beautiful being under him as he strips out of his own suit and presses his naked body against Dorian's, savoring the DRN's gasps of surprised pleasure. Dorian runs warm while John runs hot, but the heat isn't uncomfortable in the least. It's comforting and arousing.

"John.", he breathes, running a hand through his hair and arching into the body pressing him into the mattress.

John bites back a groan at the sound of Dorian saying his name like _that_ and softly nips at the DRN's neck and jaw, slipping between his legs, breath hitching as their cocks graze against each other and their chests press together--skin to skin. 

And it's _slow_ and _sweet_ and _loving_. It's feather light and overwhelming, and they just take it slow and feel each other for a long time. Feel their bodies slotting together, feel their wet lips meeting and parting, echoing in the empty room. The taste of each other's mouth that they can't seem to get enough of. Dorian savors the feeling of John's hair sliding through his fingers, and the feeling of the human's light, panting breaths against his lips. The feeling of John's heartbeat. John savors the feeling of the skin of Dorian's soft thighs against his hips as he makes his home between the DRN's legs. Dorian relishes in the safety of John's body over him, pressing him into the mattress.

The only sounds in the room are sighs and moans until Dorian gasps a wrecked little 'please', and John is reaching for lube and kissing those lips he's so addicted to.

"You sure about this, D?", he asks, and he really just needs to be _sure_ because he'd never forgive himself if he _hurt_ Dorian or _scared_ him--

"Please.", Dorian moans, high and breathy, the sound making John's length throb in lust and pure want, "Yes, John, please. Please..."

"Anything for you.", John growls, kissing those soft lips as he presses one wet finger to Dorian's puckered hole, "Anything for you."

The DRN gasps as John's finger nudges at his entrance, gripping his hair tighter as John groans at the combined feeling of Dorian's hands in his hair and how tight his husband is.

"John.", Dorian whines, grinding down on his hand, "I--I need--"

"I got you, I got you.", he groans, breaching his opening and gasping when he feels Dorian clench around his finger and whimper, "Gonna make this so good for you, D."

John gently stretches Dorian as he moans and clutches him close under him, biting his lip and gasping his name.

"John. John.", he whimpers as his husband fingers his open, dragging his fingers along his slick, tight inner walls and twisting, making Dorian sob in pleasure and want.

He adds a third finger and cherishes the soft cries falling from Dorian's lips. The DRN clutches him and yelps when John's fingers press against a spot inside him that makes him see stars and rake nails down the human's back.

"J-John, I need you."

He _really_ has to focus on not coming right there because Dorian is fucking _gorgeous_. The most beautiful thing John has ever seen. The most beautiful thing he's gotten the privilege to touch and hold so close. John is showing him that this is meant to feel good, and Dorian wants _more_.

He fingers Dorian open until the DRN is sobbing incoherently and clutching at him in pleasure that's so new, raw and intense.

John wraps a wet hand around his aching, heavy, hard, dripping cock and coats himself in lube, biting his lip at the feeling of his hand and the sight of Dorian panting, flushed and wanting under him, eyes half lidded and looking up at John like he put the stars in the sky.

Blue eyes dilated and lips kiss bitten and slick, bites littering his neck and jaw, looking so fucking wanton and pretty--

"John.", Dorian whimpers, "Please."

"I got you.", he soothes, eyes nearly rolling back in his head when the head of his leaking cock nudges at that tight ring of muscle. 

Dorian bites his lip and gasps when he feels the blunt head of John's length prodding at him, skin giving way to allow his husband into his body for the first time. John threads his fingers through Dorian's and pushes in slowly, breaching Dorian's body, so tight, velvety smooth, warm and wet.

"Ah!", Dorian rakes his fingers down John's back, panting at the thick length filling him and arching into the strong body above his.

John groans and bottoms out, chest heaving and trying not to come because he wants this to last. Being inside Dorian is just as delicious as he imagined it would be, and the fact that he finally gets to taste and take Dorian makes his head swim.

The DRN pants and whimpers under him, hole clenching around John as the human kisses his neck.

"John. Move. Please, I--I need--"

He pulls out, that slick heat rubbing against his cock and pulling along the sensitive skin of his shaft as Dorian sobs at the feeling of John's thick length tugging along his inner walls.

John drives back into Dorian's perfect body and chokes on the pleasure that rolls up his spine and holds his husband closer when he hears his cry when John rolls his hips and his cock nudges that part inside him that makes him sob.

John kisses him and drives into the body under his own over and over, groans of Dorian's name falling from his lips as the DRN sobs and shakes under him with soft cries falling from his lips. 

The entire room smells like sex and writhing bodies pressed close.

It smells like intimacy.

Like lovemaking. 

John pounds into Dorian and the DRN pants his name and the room is filled with his pleasure laden cries as John takes him apart. Dorian's soft thighs clench around John's hips.

"John. Ah!", he sobs, one hand clutching the sheet, "Harder, John. Deeper, please. Ah!"

He obliges and wraps an arm around the DRN's waist as he pistons into him, kissing him and swallowing those screams of pleasurable abandon.

"I fucking love you.", he groans, "You're doing so well for me, D."

Dorian arches into him and sobs.

"God, you're so beautiful,  Dorian.", John moans, "I love you, I love you. You're so beautiful."

He holds Dorian as he shakes apart in his arms with a cry, lights glittering up and down his body as he comes, arching into John as the human holds him and continues thrusting his hips until he comes inside Dorian with a shout, shaking above the DRN's prone body.

They don't let go of each other.

They breathe heavily, but they breathe each other's air. They aren't ready to separate for a very long time, and by the time Dorian is loosening his steel grip on John and John is reluctantly pulling himself out of Dorian, he's gone soft and his heart rate has returned to normal. 

John pulls his face from Dorian's neck and takes a breath of air salty with the smell of the ocean and thick with the smell of sex. 

He looks down at the man under him and is rewarded with one of those smiles that he loves so much. One of the smiles that, for a long time, he'd thought he lost.

Dorian reaches toward him, tracing a finger down John's cheek and giving him a soft, warm look.

Vanilla barks from somewhere outside, and John pulls his husband closer and feels like he's made it.

He's happy. _Dorian_ is happy.

Finally. 

And no matter what happens, they have each other. They have friends that love them. They have a home. 

And that morning, when he wakes up tangled in bed sheets with Dorian wrapped around him, the sun shining and the sound of ocean waves gently caressing the shore, he looks down at the sleeping DRN, his _husband_ , then looks toward the light, shining bright like it's just for them after so much darkness, and softly smiles.

"We'll be okay."

The curtain is coming down. 

A lot of horrible, horrible things happen to good people. Sometimes it's us. Sometimes it's someone we care about. Hurt is inevitable. Life deals out hard truths and we have to deal with them.

But do you have to accept it and stay in it, letting yourself wither away and die?

Or will you fight?

Fight for your will to live? Fight for your place on this earth?

And find someone to fight with. Someone that will fight _with_ you and _for_ you and refuse to let anything kill your spirit, even yourself. Someone to stand up and say 'No. This person means the world to me and I will not allow you to hurt them.'

Everyone has someone like that. Even if, in the beginning, they think they don't. Even if they have to find them. 

But they're out there, waiting for you. It might be a friend, a lover, a family member. It could be anyone.

So in the morning, look toward the light, take a deep breath and say, "I'll be okay."

Because it's true. You're a fighter. I know you are.

We'll be okay.

(You'll be okay.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it.  
> I hope it's not too uncharacteristically sappy, but they needed a happy ending so badly I just piled on the fluff.  
> You guys have been reading this story for a while, and I've been writing it for more than a year (it started in Nov 2014), and I just want to say thank you. I know how hard it was to read at times because those parts were hard to write, but I cherished every comment and I can't thank you all enough for your support. This fic was a bitch to write, but because you all love it so much I consider it my best work. I can't thank you all enough, really.
> 
> Thank you, thank you, thank you so much.  
> You all mean the world to me.  
> Thank you.


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